Verily, a New Hope (SI)
by Bakkughan
Summary: A random guy finds himself in an unusual place, in an unusual time and in a VERY unusual body. Recognizing the chance that he is given and the fate that now rests on his (annoyingly small) shoulders, he tries to go through life simply doing the best he can. But can destiny be truly changed by the actions of one man (especially since he's not a Skywalker)? Only time will tell...
1. Chapter 1

**_Verily, a New Hope_**

* * *

The idle sound of a small nearby waterfall was soothing to my senses, entwined as it was with the soft melody of the landscape surrounding me, engaging in a lush concert with the breeze as it rustled through leaves and grass, the soft afternoon rays of the suns as they fell softly onto my gnarled skin and the cool supporting earth underneath me as I sat in deep meditation.

Keeping my eyes closed, I relaxed my posture even further as I let out a deep, controlled sigh, a soft smile tugging at my wide lips. My clawed hands were loosely clasped as I let them rest in the crook of my crossed legs as I sat at peace in the middle of an idyllic landscape.

In the distance I could hear the sounds of animals and birds as they added their voices to the unifying orchestra that was this world surrounding me, suffusing me, taking me in and making me a part of it, while also intertwining itself with me, making it a part of myself.

Neither was greater and neither was lesser. Neither was dominant over the other and thus neither was subservient to the other.

There was only… balance.

Peace.

After centuries of walking the galaxy, facing evil where I found it and doing good whenever I was able to, I knew that these precious moments were fragile and fleeting, even if they always managed to endure throughout time and space, finding their champions in all times and eras, even when all seemed lost.

Still, it was in the nature of things that these peaceful moments could not last forever, for that too was balance. Besides, they could hardly be called peaceful _moments_ if they lasted forever, now could they?

In the past, there have been occasions when the peace was broken by violence, or even merely the threat or anticipation of it. Sudden and brutal, or insidious and unseen. This time, the easy stillness was disturbed by-

"Master! Master, I'm here- oof!"

-noise. Lots and lots of noise, I grumpily noted as the high tones of a child's voice shattered the symphony I had been enthralled by with all the subtlety of a rancor in a porcelain shop, only to be swiftly silenced as if by our indignant surroundings itself when it was immediately followed by the sound of something small tripping and falling face-first into the shallow pond that I had been seated by.

Giving another sigh (this one less controlled and more exasperated) I slowly open my eyes to see a small boy flailing his arms as he tries to work himself back to his feet again, his clothes dripping and hanging off his lithe frame as he desperately tries to simultaneously remove the slimy weeds clinging to his face while also trying to keep his footing on the slippery smooth pebbles underneath his little feet.

I don't move, remaining seated in my lotus position as I watch on for a few moments, merely raising a single eyebrow even as the rest of my face remains unexpressive. I don't have to wait long for the tiny blonde to cease in his struggles as he finally becomes victorious in his epic battle with the stringy weed, tugging them free of his face.

That proud expression immediately falls when he spots my unimpressed one as he quickly lowers his eyes, a blush creeping over his cheeks.

"Good, it seems you have arrived then." I merely remark dryly, the child giving an embarrassed wince.

"… sorry 'bout your meditation, Master." The boy mumbles somewhat bashfully.

With the experience that comes of having been (at various points) a teacher, diplomat, actor and parent figure for decades at a time, I expertly hide the smile that's threatening to break out on my aged face. I do allow it to soften somewhat though, taking pity on the little fella, patting the ground besides me with my three-fingered claw, an invitation he quickly takes, eager to get out of the water.

As he plops down next to me with the characteristic grace of children (meaning, absolutely _none_), I continue, my gravelly voice pitched to be slow and soothing, as if to restore tranquility to the scene around us.

"But, it _is_ good that you knew to come. It means our bond grows stronger, as does your connection to the Force. Tell me, when did you feel that I wished to speak to you?" I ask with genuine curiosity as I shift slightly to face the boy better.

The child seems briefly conflicted on what to say, glancing down and away from me as his tiny fingers start playing with the tufts of grass around him. I do not press him for an answer though, even as I easily read the various emotions he is going through as he thinks on what to say. I merely keep my expression open and inviting as I allow him to work through his own thoughts, something he understands on an almost instinctual level when he glances at me from underneath his golden locks.

When it comes to our kind of people, conversations can often go _far_ deeper than merely the spoken word, after all.

I do not have to wait long for him to make his decision though, as I can literally _feel_ his resolve burst to the foreground.

"I didn't. Not really, I mean. I was sitting with Master Ki again, talking 'bout Aurebesh again? And he stopped and he went all silent and stuff. So I asked him 'bout it and he just went all 'I sense you are wanted elsewhere Padawan' or something like that and so I focused and that's when I noticed you Master." The child hurriedly throws out (even amusingly dropping his voice and donning a pompous expression when quoting the aged Cerean Jedi) and I can sense that he fears he disappointed me.

Instead, I merely smile and pat the back of his hand.

"Well done. Not only for deciding to tell the truth. But also because this is still a great accomplishment. We are after all quite a long distance away from where Master Ki-Adi-Mundi gives his lessons, and I did not need to wait for very long. Do not be embarrassed by a trained and experienced Jedi Master showing himself to be more attuned to the Force: it is not a standard that I would hold you by, and neither should you. I merely wished for you to join me and so you have. That is sufficient. In time, you will grow, as did I and as did Ki-Adi-Mundi and then you yourself will one day find yourself alerting daydreaming padawans to their masters calling out through the Force. As was the case when Ki-Adi-Munid was padawan and as was the case when _I_ was padawan. That is the nature of all things, my boy: to start small, grow larger and once grown, guide the growth of those that come after them."

I can tell the child tries to internalize the little lesson I've just given him, but I can also tell that he doesn't quite understand the entirety of it. I'm neither surprised, nor frustrated. He is still a little boy after all, concepts such as growing up or looking after the next generation would be more alien to him than… well, literal aliens, I suppose.

It's fine though: he will learn in time.

I'll make _sure_ that he gets the chance to.

I'm shaken from my own thoughts when the kid stops nodding, looking at me with squinted eyes as he suddenly almost glows with mischief.

"But Master, you've not grown much larger _at all_? Maybe that means I should be teaching _you_ soon?" he says with such a fake expression of sincerity on his chubby little face, I don't even need the Force to tell me he's bullshitting me.

To that, I can only give one appropriate response.

"Whoa! Hey, wait- oof!"

The sound of a resounding splash fills the clearing again, as I flare my own good-natured amusement through the Force, letting out a few chuckles as well. I do this intentionally, so that the young boy knows that I did it as a prank, and not out of malicious punishment, something that he picks up on (even if he isn't consciously aware of it) as he rises to his feet again, sputtering as he moves his hair out of his face, the pleasantly cool water only reaching his knees.

As he looks at me in surprise, my chuckles grow into outright laughter, before I regard him with a wide grin, showing off my row of small, pointed teeth.

"Tell you what, my little padawan: when _you_ throw _me_ into the pond, I shall agree to let you teach me and call you Master."

The child's eyes light up, and he takes a heroic pose, feet spread apart and one hand pointed up at the little ledge I'm sitting on, a wide grin on his dripping face.

"You're on, old man!"

"Hey, that's _Master_ old man to you!"

"Neverrrr!"

And thus, a _glorious_ impromptu water fight was had.

* * *

After we had our fun (which was basically training in disguise, much how like kittens and puppies "fought" each other to develop crucial skills for later in life) and the three beaming suns had dried us, we sat next to each other again, me returning to my earlier meditative pose while the boy simply laid spread-eagled on the ground besides me.

I did not bother trying to correct him, seeing no need to. While he was an attentive and curious student, the child was simply too young and full of energy (not to mention sheer raw _power_) to have the patience for traditional lessons in meditation as I had quickly found out. Usually, he kept twitching when forcing himself to stay in a meditative position and the _one_ time when he didn't (and I was already patting myself on the back for _finally_ getting through to him) I discovered he had actually fallen asleep instead.

Thankfully for the both of us, I had quickly found the proper way to instruct him after only a few failed attempts, and the solution was very simple: just burn off that energy beforehand. Either in exercise and calisthenics or by vigorously playing with either the wildlife or some of the older Cerean children (as not a single child of his age could even remotely match him in physical prowess or stamina, even now with only the basics of Force training).

Afterwards, as a cooldown of sorts, I usually had very little trouble in guiding him through meditation, allowing him to focus inwards on his own thoughts and resting body and outwards on the Force and everything that connected to it. The physical aspect of that was coming along surprisingly rapidly (or perhaps not, considering who he was), his body recovering far faster from his strenuous activities than usual and he seemed to have an amazing awareness of the world around him during and shortly after meditation. The more esoteric aspects were coming along more slowly, but still at a rate that was certainly above the norm. He had trouble calming his thoughts and releasing his emotions into the Force and had difficulty with sensing others through it as well.

So far, the only two people he could reliably feel and check in on from over a distance of a couple hundred meters were his mother and I.

This was fine as well for a couple of reasons. The first being (as I had told him) was that he would grow into his power and there was no need to rush him or hold him to impossible standards. He would develop at his own pace and through doing so, achieve true greatness and incredible power, precisely because it developed at a rate where he could understand, internalize and appreciate said greatness and power. The second reason was that I didn't put much stock in "releasing emotions into the Force" anyways. It was great when one needed a clear head or when things could feel overwhelming, but overreliance on it could turn it into a crutch, causing one to become disconnected from their own emotions and thus incapable of truly understanding and thus dealing with them.

It was this point (among _many_ others) that had caused me to be an outsider in the Jedi Order, to the point that it was debatable if I really qualified as a member of it anymore. I was still called Jedi by many in the Galaxy, by enemy and ally alike, but this title is a layered one and certainly isn't exclusive to those who answer to the High Council of Coruscant. An example are the Green Jedi of Corellia, who are independent from the Order even as they also serve the Light Side of the Force and claim descent of the ancient Je'daii. And their faction is but one of many, all smaller than the monolithic, Republic spanning Coruscant Order, but Jedi nonetheless. It was simply a matter of orthodoxy.

As an almost legendary wanderer of the galaxy and servant of the Force, I was respected in many of those smaller factions, for many of them representing a bridge between their own beliefs and those held high within the Order (after all, my own problematic position within said Order was hardly unknown). For other factions, however, that same connection to Coruscant caused suspicion and distrust, as if I were a missionary at best, or inquisitor at worst, a spy sent by unyielding men in ivory towers to take stock of their lesser brethren.

This view would change in time, I knew, and gruesomely as well, should the Great Jedi Purge ever come to pass.

Looking at the relaxed form of the boy besides me, I once again swore to the Force that I would do everything in my power to make _sure_ that it wouldn't.

"Alright then, Anakin. Listen to my voice, and keep your breathing as it is. Good. Now, feel the world around us…"

* * *

Night had fallen when Anakin and I returned "home". It was a guest apartment in one of the monolithic buildings in Tecave City, a tightly packed collection of supermassive structures, all designed in such a way to allow for sufficient living space for millions of Cereans, while safeguarding the surrounding natural environment and allowing for massive amounts of farmland. Due to being a species with an extraordinary connection to the world around them, all cities on Cerea were structured like this, even the Outsider Citadels. Most offworlders were placed into those contained supercities as it was the only place that Cereans allowed non-Cerean technology (or simply massive amounts of technology at all).

Anakin and I were an exception due to my friendship with Ki-Adi-Mundi and the respect he had for me _and_ because I was very open about simply wishing to train Anakin in feeling the world around him and the Force connecting him to it, seeing Cerea as a prime location do to exactly that. Being the "treehuggers" (as they were sometimes called in the wider galactic community) that they were, the Cereans saw no issue with this and neither did Ki-Adi-Mundi himself. Whatever his opinions were on me in regards to the Jedi Order and High Council specifically (they were… complicated at best), he too was secretly rather pleased that I saw _his_ planet as a prime training ground for the most powerful Force user in thousands of years (maybe even in the history of the universe, depending on how much fate you placed in a certain prophecy).

It also helped that it was simply the two of us, Anakin's mother Shmi having found a job as an administrative worker in the cloud city of Bespin (that was a _long_ story) and judging from the almost daily holocalls she made to her son, being quite happy there.

Speaking off…

"So, what did she have to say? Giving you a hard time about not eating your vegetables?" I ask with a small smile as I sit at the low table in our little living room, a thick pillow underneath me and a steaming mug of Gatalenta tea in one hand, a datapad with the philosophical treaties of Master Gnost-Dural in the other, a little desk lamp providing all the light I needed.

Anakin just walked out of the bathroom, already clad in his pajamas and toweling off his head, causing his voice to be somewhat muffled.

"But I _do_ keep eating my vegetables! You make me do it! I keep telling her, but she keeps asking!" the child says with a huff of frustration as he takes a seat across the table from me, throwing the now damp towel off to the side.

I glance at the discarded cloth for a moment, before turning back towards Anakin with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. His own eyes widen briefly, before he grumbles a bit, getting up with a sigh and picking the towel off the ground. He looks from it to the hamper for a moment, before a gleam comes in his eye, causing me to sit up a little straighter in interest.

He calculates the distance between him and the hamper (roughly two dozen feet or so), before he pulls back his arms and throws the towel, keeping his eyes intensely fixated on it. When the towel starts to descent to the ground again, falling well short of the hamper itself, I can see his expression tighten even further, the tip of his tongue peeking from the edge of his lips as he pushes forwards with his hands.

And with a sudden jerk, the slowly falling towel is _slammed_ forwards, impacting the far wall above the hamper in a matter of moments, causing a proud grin to form on Anakin's face. Which immediately fades away into a disappointed frown when he notices the towel struck the wall several feet to the left of where the hamper is.

As the piece of fabric slowly falls to the ground though, the hamper suddenly jumps up and rushes along the wall, just in time for the towel to neatly fall into its open top.

Anakin's eyes widen briefly, before he turns to look at me. I of course am pretending to be completely engrossed in my datapad, merely glancing over the edge of the plasteel to give him a small wink before returning to my reading.

Anakin grins in response and once more takes his seat across from me at the table, digging into the bowl of soup that I had prepared after we returned home and he went to take a shower (which he definitely ended up needing after our water fight). As he begins shoveling the broth in his mouth at an impressive pace, I drain the last of my tea and set the datapad away, clasping my hands and placing them on the table.

Anakin shoots me a questioning look, spoon halfway raised to his mouth, but I instead give him a nod, indicating that he should finish eating first. Again, our conversation is clear despite being completely wordless, another indicator of our strengthening bond as teacher and student as well as his own increasing attunement to the Force. Not that Anakin really pays much attention to that as he gleefully digs in, polishing off the entire bowl in a matter of minutes.

Instead of letting him try his luck again (I don't need him smashing our tableware into walls after all), I merely wave my short arm, the bowl and spoon gracefully rising in the air and neatly depositing themselves in the sink. The Force: not just great at beating up evildoers, but also an excellent help in the kitchen! Of course, my small stature made it somewhat of a necessity, but some of the more traditional Jedi (regardless of whatever Order they belonged to) would've been absolutely horrified by my casual use of the Force for basal, unworthy tasks.

I knew this because they had told me so. _Loudly_. And _repeatedly_.

"Now then, Anakin. I did not get the chance to explain to you _why_ I wished to meet with you so urgently today, due to the… _intensity_ of today's lessons. It is, however, a rather important message that I needed to tell you. We are leaving."

Anakin is surprised and equal parts disappointed. Having travelled with me practically since birth after I _finally_ managed to track an exhausted Shmi and a toddler Anakin down on Tatooine, the young child is accustomed to us not sticking around in a single place for too long. I need to follow the Force and in turn Anakin follows me. In a little under ten years, he must have visited over twenty different planets, an unusually high number for someone of his age and background. Interplanetary travel in the Core and Mid-Rim is fairly standardized, but in the Outer Rim it's not unheard of for people to live and die on the same planet, having only ever looked up at the sky overhead with a wistful sigh, feet never leaving the ground. Even professions that required interplanetary travel, such as traders, smugglers and bounty hunters had a tendency to stuck to roughly a dozen planets at most during their career.

Just because FTL travel was possible in this universe, didn't mean it was _cheap_. And what was considered poverty on a world like Naboo or Corellia, was considered average in the Outer Rim. For a kid born into slavery on Tatooine, even if he had been freed at only two or three years old (there simply wasn't a way for Shmi to be entirely certain), to have even seen half a dozen planets was extraordinary in and of itself. Despite having almost no memory of the time before I found him and his mother, Anakin was still somewhat aware of this and seemed almost determined to thoroughly enjoy each and every adventure (his words, not mine) I took him on.

Still, we had been on Cerea for a little over a year now and he had made friends here, as well as having had other teachers, something that didn't occur too often. While it was useless to keep his existence a secret (an old and notoriously loner hermit like me taking on a new padawan, practically raising him from birth even, was not something that you can keep quiet after all), I still tended to shield him from the world.

I thought it was important for him to see the galaxy and more importantly, see how different people had different opinions on the Force and different ways of wielding it. But I also didn't want his exceptional power to become well known throughout Force user circles. Me taking on a kid was weird enough. Me taking on a kid who was stronger in the force at _nine _than most were at nineteen?

It wouldn't take much for my enemies to realize just _who_ it was that I had been teaching.

No, Anakin's greatest defense right now was anonymity. I trusted Ki-Adi-Mundi enough to count on his discretion though (after all, I had trained his former Master and had even taught him a thing or two when he was still a Knight fresh out of his trials), which is why I allowed him to sometimes assist in Anakin's lessons. After all, I was old, even by my own species standards (to a nine year old, I was practically _ancient_) and taking care of an energetic powerhouse like Anakin could be… taxing.

Hence why Anakin was conflicted, but the sadness of leaving his new friends was quickly replaced by an eagerness to meet new ones. It wasn't as if we never revisited the places we'd been to after all (we made bi-monthly trips to Bespin for instance), so he wouldn't really _lose_ them. Some Jedi Masters would've seen that as a sign of him being too attached to people, with me allowing our return to old haunts and friends enabling that un-Jedi like behavior. Those Jedi Masters could shove their lightsabers up their own ass and ignite them for all that I cared. Let the child make friends and let him realize that saying goodbye is something else than saying farewell. Hopefully, _this_ would allow him to get over his fear of losing someone, especially now that he could still visit his mother.

"So, where are we going?" he asked with enthusiasm as he leaned forwards on the table.

"Tatooine." I say with a smile, causing a confused look in the child's eye.

"Huh? Go back there? Why? Mom says the place is bad."

"It is, though as with all things, nothing is ever truly bad or truly good. Even Sith and Jedi. For just as Jedi can fall, Sith can be redeemed. And just as Tatooine is home to hives of scum and villainy, it is also home to good, honest and hard-working people."

"… it has sand." Anakin says, his face scrunching up, though the sentence is delivered with as much gravitas as my own statement regarding good and evil.

"… yes, it is also home to sand, Anakin. Lots of it, in fact. But we must travel there, because soon it will see the arrival of a quite extraordinary group of people. These people will require our aid, Anakin. Or, more specifically, they will require a T-14 Hyperdrive."

* * *

You know what? Anakin was right. Tatooine _does_ have sand. Sure, it's obvious to even to most casual viewer, with its sprawling deserts and endless dunes and what not. But the problem with Tatooine was that the sand didn't have the common decency to _stay_ in said deserts and dunes. Mos Espa's streets were often covered in the stuff and even the slightest breeze would send those devilish particles storming around, trying to find every nook and cranny they could fit into.

Including, as it turned out, my eyes, nose, big pointy ears and seemingly every single crease and wrinkle in my face. It even got up my… well, it got where you'd _really_ rather not have any sand, let's leave it at that.

"Here Master! This should help!" Anakin says in a bright voice as he holds a long piece of thin cloth out towards me, his own face obscured by a similar cloth wrapped around his mouth and nose and a pair of comically oversized goggles protecting his eyes.

I take the cloth from him with a grateful smile (which I quickly close as a sudden gust causes sand to be blown in my teeth), wiping the sand from my face and eyes as best I can before fashioning the thin scarf into a makeshift face mask as well. It still leaves my eyes and ears exposed, though my young charge seems to have prepared for that as well, holding out… earmuffs?

"Sorry, but I couldn't really find anything else that would fit you. Maybe you could stuff your ears with something? That might help? A bit… perhaps..." Anakin explains when he sees my questioning look, but I wave him off.

"That is alright, my boy. This will have to suffice then. I have endured things far worse than mere sand after all!" I reassure him, placing the earmuffs on my head, my long pointed ear tips twitching every so often.

'_I've rarely faced something more annoying however, I must add._' I grouse to myself, before looking out over the main street of Mos Espa again, squinting my eyes.

Goggles like Anakin was wearing would be rather useless for me, given our subtly different headshapes, and the earmuffs meant that I probably couldn't wear one even if it fit anyways.

Holding up one cloaked arm against both the sun and the sand, I squint down the wide street, unable to keep some frustration out of my voice, even as I take the emotion and allow it to fade away into the Force, calmness and collectedness flowing into me like a cooling river, sprouting from an endless, ever-present ocean.

"That being said, however, they should hurry up and arrive already! They are Jedi! Don't they know keeping the elderly is a grave sin for any upstanding Jedi?!"

"Is it?"

"It might be. I honestly do not know. It probably is. A hundred similarly inane things are."

"… Master, I don't think I'd like being an upstanding Jedi."

"That's my boy."

Thankfully for my poor eyes and constitution, it didn't take too much longer before I saw the group in question arrive, easily picking them out from the surrounding crowds. They were rather… out of place, after all. Padme wasn't too terrible, honestly, though her natural beauty combined with her simple clothing might stand out as weird to most residents of the village. Pretty girls like that usually didn't wear clothing that ratty, and girls wearing such ratty clothing usually weren't that pretty.

It was the sad truth of Tatooine, but Padme might have stood out _less_ if she'd gone with a Leia-outfit.

Still, she was less obvious to the two Jedi accompanying them, though to be fair, my own Force sensitivity meant that they stood out to me like spotlights in a darkened room (following that comparison, Anakin felt like having a sun at my back). And it wasn't as if Qui-Gon had much chance of blending in _anywhere_. It wasn't just that he was impressively tall for a human (something that stood out even further amongst the often malnourished populace of Mos Espa), but it was this… aura around him, palpable even to non-Force users. A commanding aura of a man who was confident in his capabilities, and for good reason. In that regard, Obi-Wan stood out for exactly the opposite reason. Just one look at him would reveal that the youth was uncomfortable in what was obviously an unfamiliar setting. Because he was aware of this and trying his hardest to _not_ let that show, it merely stood out all the more.

But, of course, the _real_ reason why they immediately stood out was the lightsabers.

_'Oh, Jin, I am disappointed. I taught you to be a sneakier bastard than that.'_

After all, despite having very little (to almost none, in some cases) presence in the Outer Rim, _the_ defining characteristic of a Jedi was known to every single organic (and droid) in the galaxy. Our universe isn't the only one where the lightsaber is seen as one of the coolest things/weapons in existence. After all, you can't _see_ whether someone is a Force user or not (unless their entire species is Force Sensitive, of course), but a lightsaber is a dead giveaway.

Some Jedi who travel the galaxy in a diplomatic function even tend to present their lightsaber almost as an ID card of sorts, and you'd be hard-pressed to find people who wouldn't accept such proof.

And even then, simply carrying the greatest identifier of their millennia-old order out in plain sight _still_ meant that the two Jedi didn't stand out as much as the last member of their little group.

"Wait! Wait! Meesa thinks meesa steps into somethings!"

_'Calm. Balance. Peace. Repeat after me: I am a Jedi. I am not a Sith. Therefore, I do not kill people just because they annoy me. Even if they really, really, really annoy me.'_

Taking a deep breath and once again allowing the calm of the Force to settle within me, I poke Anakin in his ribs with my elbow.

"There they are. Let us go and greet them, shall we?"

Feeling his acknowledgement, I step forwards into the busy throng of people, swiftly pushing my way past the sweltering bodies and ragged clothing, closing the distance between me and Qui-Gon in short order. He was inspecting the junk parts that were haplessly strewn about in a nearby vendor's stall with a discerning gaze, but the moment I was a few feet away from him, his head swiftly moved in my direction.

I can tell he immediately picks up on my extraordinary Force signature, judging by the way his eyes widen and how he subtly draws himself up even taller. Obi-Wan for his part does seem to react reflexively to his Master's change in posture, even if he cannot immediately pinpoint the cause of the change as Jin had.

Well done, for a mere padawan. Then again, Obi-Wan was a Knight in all but name at this point, so I wasn't too surprised.

"You will not find what you seek in any of these stalls, young Qui-Gon, unless you seek to lose some of your credits?" I ask with a chuckle, fully drawing the attention of the two Jedi and the Naboo Queen (Jar Jar was… staring at a nearby Dewback. For _some_ reason).

My gravelly voice and the bits of my face not obscured by my face-shawl (as well as my distinctive body-shape and skin) causes surprise and recognition with the two Jedi, Obi-Wan's eyes widening comically.

"Master?! What are you-?"

"Peace, Obi-Wan. I think this is a case of mistaken identity. Is it not, Old Wanderer?" Qui-Gon's deep voice cuts in smoothly, and a smile forms on his face as he looks down at me.

I respond in kind, letting out a hearty laugh as I wink at the baffled young Padawan.

"My, my, it _has_ been a while since I have last heard _that_ particular title. I did not realize I was still called as such by the Coruscanti Jedi. It has been quite some time since I last visited, after all. You had yet to even start your trials, if I recall correctly, young Qui-Gon."

The tall Jedi's smile widens somewhat further in fond remembrance.

"Indeed, Master. I took them not even a year after your last… _argument_ with the High Council. Still, that day made quite an impression on all of us: I don't think any of my generation will soon forget it. Not to mention, my former Master Dooku still holds great admiration for you."

Jin's smile fell slightly as the genial mood between the two of us turned somewhat more dour.

"Because of that, many blame you for his decision to leave the Jedi Order and return to Serenno. I assume you were aware of this?"

"Hmm, yes indeed. I briefly visited his court a scant few years ago, not long after he reclaimed his title of Count. Since I was merely passing through and he still had much to get in order, we did not get the opportunity to talk for very long. Still, I perceived that my erstwhile padawan was in good spirits and he even claimed that he finally felt like he was where he truly belonged, so I did not press him further on his decision, merely wishing him all the best." I rumble, stroking my chin with my claws.

I had been an on and off again teacher for Dooku during his younger years, but his maturity and my own missions at the time meant that the intense young man didn't spend all of his days at my side. Often he trained and engaged in debates with the Jedi at the Temple on Coruscant, usually a practice more reserved for full-fledged Jedi Knights who had not been assigned padawans. It wasn't unheard of for a teacher-student bond to form this way, and considering Dooku's clear power and intellect, nobody had objected. Dooku himself appreciated the freedom I gave him and the both of us deeply enjoyed the discussions and lessons we would have whenever chance allowed us to meet again. It was through my influence on him that his allegiance to the Jedi Order was far lower than it would've otherwise been, but I hoped that said influence had also fostered a greater allegiance to the Light Side as well.

I couldn't be certain as to what extent I had managed to counteract Sideous' (or his master's or perhaps even his replacement's, depending on what I had managed to change) hold on my former student, especially since he had taken on another (equally famous) teacher in his later years, but from what I managed to glimpse on Serenno, Dooku was a ways off from becoming Sith just yet.

"Apologies, Master. But who is the child? Have you taken a new student?" Jin's calm voice snaps me from my thoughts, a smile appearing on my face again (though it was probably hidden underneath my scarf).

"Ah, yes indeed! Qui-Gon Jin and Obi-Wan Kenobi, meet Anakin Skywalker! Anakin, these are two _very _fine Jedi, people you can look up to." I say, turning to the child in question, only to frown at him when I saw that he hadn't been paying attention to our conversation in the slightest.

Following his line of sight, I saw he had been staring at Padme, who had been looking back with equal interest. Judging from their expressions and what I could feel through the Force, there was nothing romantic about the looks they gave each other, merely interest. Padme, because she was generally interested in who the two of us were that her protector regarded us with such respect and Anakin because…

… well, because he thought the girl was _very_ pretty. It was still an innocent and childlike kind of observation, but the seeds for his later fascination had already been sown in the instant he saw her.

_'Screw you Force! He doesn't even have the proper hormones yet, why are you pushing so hard for your ship already?! Let him grow a beard first dammit!'_ I shouted in my mind, though I managed to keep my expression calm.

Sure, I follow the will of the Force. That doesn't mean I won't hesitate to call it out on its bullshit at times though.

"_Anakin_…" I said, raising both my voice as well as my Force presence, causing him to snap towards me with an embarrassed look.

Indicating the two Jedi with my head, he quickly cottoned on, giving them a respectful bow.

"Greetings, Masters Jedi! My name is Anakin Skywalker, but my mom calls me Ani!" he says, straightening with a smile as he regards them with curiosity, already thinking about making them his friends and going on adventures with them.

As a bright and happy child, this was Anakin's attitude towards most people that I introduced him to, partly because the very fact that _I_ was the one doing the introductions meant that those people implicitly held my trust and partly because Anakin simply loved making friends.

The Jedi's eyebrows rose almost identically (Obi-Wan clearly emulating his teacher in more ways than he was probably aware of), but Jin easily disguised his surprise at Anakin's statement regarding his mother as he responded with a smile as well, though his padawan kept shooting the child an odd look.

Not surprising, given Jin's greater experience and my own influence on him. Obi-Wan's youth meant that he was still very much adhering to the Order's strict Code. It would change in time if I had anything to say about it, I thought to myself as I regarded Jin once more.

"I knew you would be arriving at this time. The Force revealed this to me quite a while ago. I have the hyperdrive navigator that you need. Merely bring us to your ship and we can be on our way."

Jin simply nodded as I revealed my knowledge, though Obi-Wan and Padme looked very much surprised. Young Kenobi, however, being a Jedi and trusting his teacher, accepted my statement, though Padme regarded me with suspicion.

"You wish to join us on our mission then?" Qui-Gon asked, his long strides allowing him to easily keep up with me as I turned and walked to where I had stashed my speeder and the flatbed on which the navigator was safely secured.

Getting to Tatooine hadn't cost me too much, the tickets for a commercial travel ship provided for me by the mayor of Tecave City, and even though the speeder dealer had tried to swindle me, a simple application of the Force had made sure I only paid for what the rusty bucket was really worth. I of course had bought the Hyperdrive navigator almost two years ago already when I managed to find it for cheap during the short while Anakin and I had spent on Nar Shaddaa.

While I had found the Smuggler's Moon far too loud and dirty for my tastes, the sheer overabundance of tech there (most of it highly illegal) had been Force Valhalla for Anakin, so we had ended up staying on that Hutt-infested planet for a little over a month. I hadn't minded our extended stay, since I knew most (if not all) of our acquired tech, including the navigator, would have to remain in storage in one of the Citadels on Cerea, so I let Anakin play with tech for a while, seeing as he'd have to do without for quite some time.

All that I had really been concerned with at the time was keeping Anakin away from the many, _many_ red light districts that littered Nar Shaddaa (as I had repeatedly and profusely explained to the child's mother when she found out where exactly I had taken her son).

Still, retrieving our stuff from the storage space in the Outsider Citadel, accepting the tickets for our trip to Tatooine and buying the speeder (flatbed included) had set me back by quite a few credits. Not that I was a very material person after all these centuries, but money was still the motor of civilization, regardless of universe or planet, and the loss could negatively impact my options for traveling around the galaxy.

Not that that would be much of an issue following our current quest, considering what I was planning to do at the end of it.

"Indeed. The Force wills it so." I simply say in response to Qui-Gon's earlier question, not breaking my stride.

Behind us follows Obi-Wan, while behind him walk Padme and Anakin who are engaged in conversation (mostly Padme trying to subtly grill him about me and Anakin comically missing her point completely). Behind _them_ follows (or rather, stumbles) Jar Jar, who somehow manages to find the sheer absurd levels of hand-eye coordination required to walk into _every single being_ that passes us.

_'There is no emotion, there is peace.'_

"As you say Master. May I ask, what else has the Force shown you? Do you know the contents of our current mission and what we have planned?" Jin answers easily, accepting my claim of foresight without much question.

Such a thing is hardly unheard of amongst the Jedi after all, and I have proven on several occasions that my own gifts were significantly stronger than normal. Of course, I cheated, but they couldn't know that.

"I have foreseen much, young Qui-Gon. I will not reveal all of it at this time. You shall come to know everything you must when the time is right. For now, I can only say that I know you wish to travel back to Naboo and break the Trade Federation's blockade there. And I know what awaits you on that planet."

Hearing the ominous tones in my last words, Jin frowns deeply even as he easily manages to match my stride.

"It is true then."

At my raised eyebrow (barely visible through the cloth swaddling my face, so he probably picked up on my unasked question through the Force), he elaborates.

"I have had a… bad feeling, as of late. I could not tell why, or what caused it. I still cannot truly pierce the… the _veil_ that surrounds it. I can merely sense that there is… _something_, though I cannot tell more than that. To be honest, Master, I was beginning to wonder if it was truly there at all, instead of a phantasm created by my own worries." The tall Jedi explains, showing me his own uncertainty and his dislike of said uncertainty.

"Fear is a gateway to the Dark Side, Qui-Gon. Left unchecked, it can easily control our actions, make us lose sight of ourselves. It is the main reason why the Coruscanti Order and many others are so… _stringent_ when it comes to controlling one's emotions. _But_, the greatest cure against fear and its hold… is simply to voice it aloud. Do not be ashamed of your own paranoia, Qui-Gon: it was warranted. Now that you have spoken of it and have had it validated, recognize your own feelings and accept them. Release them into the Force, as all things are from the Force, including your own worries and even the cause of these worries." I rumble as I finally come to a halt in a shaded alleyway.

Tugging the tarp covering the speeder back and throwing it in the flatbed, I turn back towards Qui-Gon (spotting Obi-Wan's ponderous face right behind him) before letting out a large grin, one easily seen through my scarf.

"After all, why worry, when you have one of the greatest Jedi of all time at your side!" I proclaim proudly, taking a wide stance and planting my fists on my hips.

The image would be much more grand if I actually had the physique to back up my bold claim and stance however, judging by the suppressed chuckles I pick up from Anakin and Padme. Obi-Wan merely looks somewhat confused at the sudden 180 in my attitude, but Qui-Gon merely nods seriously at my words, though he has a smile small on his face.

Patting the flatbed with the navigator on it (shaking loose some sand and rust as I do) I look back at the small group.

"Very well then. Let's get you all to Coruscant, shall we?"

* * *

I could understand what Qui-Gon meant. Even though I _knew_ that Maul was on the same planet as us, I could not pinpoint him. I could merely feel that _something_ ominous was in the air, though thankfully some distance away still. This level of concealment was impressive… and worrying. There was no way Maul was _this_ adept at hiding himself with the Dark Side. He was an assassin yes, but he was more well-versed in the physical aspect of the Sith disciplines. Powerful or not, there were _very_ few Force users alive who were adept enough in the more esoteric disciplines of Force mastery to hide from my gaze (especially when I _knew_ they were there), and Maul was not one of those.

Given this and the fact that he was trained as an assassin, yet had far less skill in actual stealth than in combat, it could only mean one thing: someone else was hiding him and they were doing a _very_ good job of it.

Unfortunately, _that_ could mean a great many of things. The most worrying would be if Sidious had still been created. I had traveled to Naboo when Palpatine was still a young man and recently elected Senator (my status as a wanderer and hermit meant I didn't really need a pretense to travel to any specific planet), but I hadn't sensed darkness in him then.

Of course, Sideous was a true master of Force Disguise, so that didn't really mean much.

Still, I had observed him for the better part of _decade_ (disguising my presence on Naboo as a mission to establish peace between the Gungans and the Naboo, something I was incidentally fairly successful in) and I had yet to find definitive proof of his involvement in Sith matters.

I had kept an eye on _any_ contact between him and Plagueis, known to the Galaxy as Hego Damask II, but I hadn't found anything of the sort. I _knew_ that Damask was Plagueis, having seen him flee after I managed to track down his master Darth Tenebrous, killing him in single combat, but the Muun had expertly hidden himself amongst his notoriously close-knit people, while also firmly integrating himself in the public eye through politics.

Essentially, while he subjected himself to severe scrutiny from me, the Jedi Order and the galactic populace at large, in reality he had made himself untouchable to me. I was already on thin ice with both the High Council as well as the Senate, considering the Muun had managed to get a narrative out in which he revealed my killing of Tenebrous in his public (and well-loved) persona of Rugess Nome. Needless to say, this had hardly endeared me to many, especially when I revealed that I had slain him because he was a Sith. No evidence other than a few artefacts and Nome's lightsaber could be produced of course, courtesy of both Tenebrous' and Plagueis' own fail-safes. The scant evidence available meant that at least I wasn't thrown in jail, but my _apparently _sudden killing of one of the galaxy's most beloved ship designers in cold blood for no real reason (after all, _everyone _knew the Sith had been gone for millenia, hadn't they?) had meant that my relationship with the High Council and the Senate soured even further.

Sometimes I wondered whether Plagueis had foreseen this and _allowed_ me to track down and face Tenebrous when I had, just to expose our confrontation in the worst light possible and exploit it for his own benefit and (more importantly) my detriment.

He was called The Wise for a reason, after all…

If he _was _cautious and wily enough to have pulled it off, it would mean he did in fact have the capabilities required to fly under the radar in plain sight as Hego Damask II and it could indicate that he had _somehow_ managed to still come in contact with Palpatine and corrupt the Naboo Senator, all without my knowledge. I could hardly follow the young human _every_ second of _every_ day after all, especially since Palpatine often traveled the Core Worlds in his capacity as Senator.

Still, his apparent innocence and Plagueis' clear act of lying low (if in plain sight) had made me consider if maybe the slippery Muun had found another apprentice. Now as I was waiting for Padme's crew to repair her ship with the navigator I so graciously provided, I was starting to rethink that.

The fact that Maul was still hunting the group on Tatooine, as well as the fact that he was cloaked from my senses _this_ well… it pointed to Sideous, certainly, but it wasn't _definite_ proof. Not yet.

I would have to wait for the opportunity to ask questions though, since we were quickly up in the air and bursting through Tatooine's atmosphere when I could sense this hidden danger still quite a few kilometers away from our position. No running battle between him and Jin required this time, and for just the briefest of flashes, I could sense a powerful source of sheer _rage_ on the planet. It was quickly smothered and hidden away again and when I later subtly questioned Qui-Gon about it, he revealed that he had only barely felt something for a brief instant and neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin seemed to have picked up on it.

During the entire trip to Coruscant, Qui-Gon had kept a close eye on Anakin despite keeping his distance, probably out of respect for me. The bond between a padawan and their Master was a special one and in most cases, other Masters respected this by not interfering to much in their education, though many of them were always open to answer a question of provide some tutelage if asked for it.

Since I identified Anakin as _my_ student, Qui-Gon would take care not to intrude too much on Anakin's personal space since that could be construed as a sign of disrespect, especially considering my far higher status compared to his, outsider within the Order or not. Still, Qui-Gon was strong in the Force and he hardly needed to interrogate the child in order to feel his already monstrous levels of sheer power and raw potential.

I knew he suspected that Anakin was the Chosen One, but he hadn't voiced his suspicions yet and I wouldn't press him for it. Unfortunately, after this whole ordeal was over Anakin's true identity would be known to the galaxy either way, so it didn't really matter that Qui-Gon had figured it out this fast.

Honestly, the trip to Coruscant was quite peaceful, especially since Anakin and I would get off on another planet first. I wasn't _quite _ready to go to that place just yet in order to face the music. Just setting foot on the planet, even if I should remain in the ship, would alert _him _to my presence, something I'd rather avoid for just a little while longer, even though it was probably inevitable after this adventure had come to a close. No, instead I had asked the pilot to make a slight detour towards Serenno first. Since this would delay the rest of the group by at least a day before they arrived on Coruscant, Padme was understandably upset at my decision, fearing what it could mean for her planet, especially when I refused to elaborate on _why_ I didn't want to travel to Coruscant with them.

Evidently, "because the Force wills it so" isn't a good enough argument for princesses in this day and age. To be fair, it seemed that it sounded inadequate even to those that actually _do_ follow the will of said Force. Qui-Gon was hesitant at my departure, even as I promised him we would meet up before they would end up travelling towards Naboo, seemingly put off by my apparent certainty that his and Padme's reports to both the Order and the Senate respectively would ultimately amount to nothing being done about the blockade, forcing the small group to take matters into their own hands. From his point of view, this only made my presence on Coruscant even more necessary if we wanted to avoid such a scenario.

"Master... surely after all these decades, you could-"

"Please, young Qui-Gon. Let us speak no more of this matter. You must travel to Corsuscant to alert the Council, just as Padme must travel there to alert the Senate and just as _I _must travel to Serenno to talk to my erstwhile student. The galaxy is about to change, my friend. Malcontent is rising within the Outer Rim, while the Dark Side has veiled the Core Worlds in Shadow. Both must be fought with all our strength and conviction, for I have foreseen that if we fail in this, doom awaits us all."

No pressure, of course.

"Then come with us. You have fought against the Dark Side for _centuries_! We need your strength there-"

"Qui-Gon. This type of Darkness... it is not the kind that is fought with lightsaber skills or telepathic might. It is as clever as it malicious, hiding behind innocent faces and within the cracks of political powers and structures. No, the Force tells me that this should be combated not by some rogue Jedi with a chip on his shoulder." I chuckle softly, my raspy voice filling my small room as I stare at the tall human sitting across from me.

"Then with what, Master? How do we stand against the Dark Side if it is as insidious as you say?" Qui-Gon asks in a low, pained voice.

As a follower of my teachings (though still loyal to a fault to the leaders of the Coruscanti Order) the young human was more in tune with his feelings than other Masters of his skill and age and as such I could clearly feel his inner turmoil. A true (if humble) champion of Good, Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than stand as a vanguard between the oncoming storm and the billions of innocents living unaware of this danger in the Core Worlds, but he was unsure if he knew what to do, and whether or not he would prove to have the strength to do it.

A smile formed on my craggy face as I allowed myself to expand through the Force, flowing towards Qui-Gon's own signature as I shifted up against it, feeling every hint of negative emotion that he felt: fear and insecurity, and shame over the strength of those emotions. Instead of berating them, or pushing them away from him into the vastness of the Force itself, I poured more of myself into this metaphysical contact.

I basically Jedi-shoved every ounce of utter conviction and _trust_ I felt in his abilities and merit as a Jedi into his metaphysical face. A little bit _too _enthusiastically, I belatedly realized when Qui-Gon's eyes widened before he tipped over backwards as if someone had just poked him very hard in the forehead, sprawling over the floor of my room.

As the Master worked himself back to his elbows, staring up at my diminutive form with awe and respect, I felt my smile widen even further as I picked up my cup of Cassius Tea, raising it to my lips and taking a deep, satisfied inhale of its smooth aroma, appearing completely relaxed both in the physical world and in the Force.

"How do you beat such Darkness? Very simple Qui-Gon, and the reason why you and Padme need to alert your respective governing bodies, even if it is likely not to have any noticeable immediate effects. Even if we will need to go to Naboo by ourselves to free the innocents there. Because in the end, there's only _one_ way to win this new war that has just now entered its opening stages."

I take a deep gulp of the smooth, slightly bitter tea, smacking my lips in satisfaction, before my eyes focus back on the human, gaining a dangerous twinkle as my grin turns just slightly sharper.

"_Together_, of course."

* * *

Anakin and I shielded our eyes as the sleek Naboo ship blasted off from the planet, headed towards the Galactic Core in a desperate bid to make up for lost time. I watched them go with mixed feelings. Based on half-remembered memories of a startlingly short life before my current one, I knew that their mission was in vain: the Republic would not act against the Trade Federation's blockade of Naboo. Despite my centuries long lifespan, I had still been born too late to try and counter the Ruusan Reformation, which had been finalized almost a century before my (re)birth.

My whole life I've been trying to get the Republic to see how utterly, monumentally _stupid_ that Reformation had been, but I had been turned away at every corner and opportunity. Even as we saw the aftereffects grow worse and worse over the centuries, with the Outer Rim slowly turning into a lawless wasteland due to the incapability of the Republic to protect its own members from slavers and pirates and worse, my cries went unheard.

The Brotherhood of Darkness had caused too much pain, to the point that even two centuries after they had been defeated, people still suffered from the consequences and simply did not dare reverse the measures put into place to prevent a second rise of such diabolical characters. And afterwards, as the specter of their memory _finally_ had slowly begun to fade, it was too late: people had gotten used to the new status quo and the Republic isn't something that is prone to change, especially in peace time.

Even the Jedi Order didn't agree with my sentiments, with words like "Warmonger", "Battle Seeker" and "Asshole" being thrown around at various points (though the Order of the Silver Jedi have practically been begging me to become their Grandmaster of decades now). Looking back on it, that is probably where the rift between me and the more traditional-minded Jedi originated. They saw the Ruusan Reformation as the beginning of a new era of peace, foolishly connecting the absence of war to the absence of an army. With no war to fight, there was no need to keep an army around, as such strength would only invite challenge, and challenge would lead to conflict, they reasoned.

Whenever I argued that conflict already existed, I was countered with the argument that so did the Jedi. They and their lightsabers were sufficient to resolve these minor conflicts meaning that there was no need for an entire army to be there to come in with overwhelming force when it was clearly unnecessary. When I tried to throw their hypocrisy back in their face by asking them if our presence then did _not_ invite conflict just as well as such an army would, I was calmly told that_, no_, indeed we did not. When I asked them why not, the answer was a simple as it was wrong.

The Jedi Order did not have any enemies that would seek out such conflict, since the Sith had been all eradicated.

My subsequent rant that they were still very much alive and plotting against us was met with skepticism at the best of times and my subsequent centuries of traversing the galaxy and fighting their (often invisible) influence meant that my earlier calls for a Republic Army must indeed have seemed to be the calls of a man hungry for conflict and war.

For every plot stopped or planet saved was another Rugess Nome slain in broad daylight and more suspicion leveled my way, until among many within the Order and on the Core Worlds I was almost seen as some unstable Jedi probably on the verge of falling to the Dark Side, if not fallen already and simply hiding it all these centuries.

Thankfully, I was not _completely_ alone in my views. Over the course of my life there have been several Senators that had had similar opinions to my own and there were even a couple of attempts at either revising the Ruusan Reformation or even retracting it completely. Every single one of those attempts had ultimately failed. The one that had come the closest falling just short as the Senate had voted on the proposed new legislation and my faction was short a measly three votes.

The fact that three Senators who were in my corner just so happened to die in "unfortunate accidents" mere days before the actual vote was _of course _ruled as being completely coincidental. My vehement rants to the contrary and arguments that this was just more proof that the Sith had had managed to sink their claws in the Republics political powers were once again twisted and thrown back in my face as evidence towards my own paranoia and warmongering ways.

It was only in recent years that I had gained any allies within the Council in the form of Master Sifo-Dyas, whose gifts of Foresight rivaled my own, even with the special knowledge that I possessed. But while I only occasionally returned to Coruscant every decade or so, he was butting heads with the likes of Mace Windu almost every single day and the resulting tension had caused him to leave the Council, though like me he was still considered a formal member of the Coruscanti Order.

I had tried to steer him away from going to the Kaminoans in his desperation, but I wasn't entirely sure how successful I was, considering how upset and betrayed he looked when I appeared to try and undermine the same thing that we had both been advocating in the Order for years. I had even tried to plead with the Council myself through holocommunication, but the parallels between him and me were to great and the Jedi decided that he should continue following in my footsteps and start wandering the galaxy as well.

However, away from the Coruscanti Order and the Core Worlds, my words found more willing ears. Following the Force had led me to one pit of despair to the other and in the Outer Rim this usually involved slaver camps or local warlords or something similar, which I of course then drove back as best I could. I wasn't always successful, but I managed to save the innocents more often than not and that, combined with the fact that I had even _bothered _in the first place, had brought me a lot of goodwill with the marginalized and oppressed of the galaxy.

In fact, come to think of it, there had been these Twi'Lek sisters a little over a century ago that had promised to build a large statue of me back on their home planet of Ryloth (I briefly puzzled how anyone could make a _large_ statue of one of my species, but I dismissed it quickly) after I had saved them from slavery on Mawan.

I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but I'm pretty sure that this, in combination with having saved thousands of their species and given them the means to return to their planet, I could be considered a Saint to the Twi'Lek people.

Huh.

It wasn't just the common people of the Outer Rim that proved to be a willing ear to my desperate warnings: while the Corsucanti Order were made uncomfortable by my emotional outbursts whenever I felt blocked in my ongoing crusade against the Sith, several splinter groups were more sympathetic to my troubles.

Not all of them believed that the Sith still existed, but most of them agreed that the possibility alone warranted caution. And since most of them lived among the regions where the influence of the neutered Republic and stubborn Order was most visibly waning with each passing generation, they agreed that _something_ needed to be done.

Jedi or no Jedi, these people followed the Light Side of the Force, and were more than willing to give their all in trying to defend the innocent from the rising civil unrest, power kept at the ready should the growing Dark Side eventually reveal its champions. Some banded together to form larger factions, growing beyond their own splinter cells, while others agreed to start working closer together with existing planetary power structures, almost deliberately opposing the way that the Jedi Order proclaimed itself separate from the Republic's political power-structure, even if they still obeyed the Supreme Chancellor's orders.

The result of my increased popularity among the Outer Rim planets as well as the more understanding Force Users had led to the creation of the kind of people that gently shook me from my reverie as I stood beside Anakin inside Serreno's spaceport.

"Master Jedi? Count Dooku awaits your arrival. If you would follow us please?" a voice, smooth and cultured, broke through my musings with politely uttered words, and as I turned around I saw half a dozen men and women in crisp, muted blue and red uniforms standing at attention a few feet away from me.

Their uniforms were the fairly standard synthweave suits that were found all over the galaxy, probably reinforced with an under-layer of armorweave. What was attention grabbing however, were the small cream colored capes/ponchos that they had thrown around their shoulders and torso, and the long techstaffs each one wielded in addition to the standard-issue blaster holstered at their hip.

Planetary security, structured much in the same way that the Coruscant Security Force or even Padme's own forces were organized, but with a little extra sprinkle thrown in. It seems that Dooku had managed to implement the reforms that he and I had discussed so long ago after all, with me drawing from vague memories of a faction called the Zakuul Knights or something.

"Of course, lead the way." I reply with a smile, gesturing with my three-fingered claw.

I receive a low nod from the man in front, before the unit turns as one with uncanny precision without the need of a verbal command from him before we all start moving at a brisk pace, forcing poor Anakin to hurry somewhat in order to keep up.

We've gone down at least three hallways and up two floors before I ask a question, deliberately slowing my pace to give the now slightly panting Anakin a change to catch his breath. If the security detail notices or is bothered by my reduced speed, they are professional enough not to show it on any level, which means they either really do not mind or they are more skilled than I had initially given them credit for.

"Might I have your name, if you do not mind?" I ask of the tall dark haired leader of the group.

He briefly looks down at his side to meet my gaze, before he looks straight ahead again, eyes (and more esoteric senses) continuously monitoring our surroundings even as he answers me.

"I do not mind, Master Jedi. My name is Theross Serenno." he replies easily, though the corners of his lips turn down somewhat when he mentions his family name.

I raise an eyebrow slightly as I consider the name and his reaction to it, keeping a mental eye on the rest of the group through the Force. It makes a certain amount of sense I suppose: most people would probably assume that a member of the ruling House in the role of guard captain probably got thrown the position as a favor of something or was perhaps demoted to such a position because of some dishonorable thing.

Considering how tuned in this squad was on their leader combined with his own no-nonsense attitude led me to believe that this was hardly the case, and if so, Theross had more than earned his stripes by now.

"Ah, I see. I don't think I've ever seen you on Coruscant, but then again it has been quite some time since I last visited. You were probably one of the first that my apprentice snapped up for this project of his upon his return then, correct?" I ask and judging from the way his eyes widen in surprise, it's clear that he understood I _wasn't_ referencing to his blood status but something else entirely.

He studied me for a long moment, before a small smile flitted across his otherwise grave expression (briefly I wonder if perhaps this was just natural for people of House Serenno and if so, if I had been a bit too hard on Dooku during his younger years), giving a light shake of his head.

"Indeed. You are as... _perceptive_ as he said you were." the captain replies, his voice gruff but the tone is good-natured, causing me to let out a raspy chuckle.

"I thank you for editing the words that he probably _actually_ used to describe me: we are in the company of a child after all." I say, reaching out to ruffle Anakin's golden hair, causing him to half-halfheartedly try to bat my claw away with a petulant expression on his face.

"Indeed." the captain merely replied again, before our little group fell silent once more for the following few minutes, before we arrived at a large set of double doors, which led into a large vaulted command center I saw as Theross places a hand against a panel to the side of the doors, causing them to smoothly swing open.

Nodding in thanks to the captain and his team, I lead Anakin further into the room in a straight line towards the tall figure that's bent over a long, low-slung table browsing several datapads, assistants and officials hurrying all over the place in the imitation of an agitated beehive, though the overall atmosphere was one of optimistic determination.

These people had hope for a better future, and weren't afraid to roll up their sleeves and get to work in order to make it a reality.

As the doors fell shut behind us and we came to a stop a few feet behind the tall figure, the man noticed us and straightened to his full height, turning on his heel so his cape flared slightly behind him staring down at the both of us.

And then a wide smile crossed Count Dooku's face as he gave a deep formal bow.

"Master! It is a pleasure to see you."

As always has been the case these past few decades, there's a brief pang of sadness as I take in his features. It wasn't so noticeable from the back, but now that I can get a close look at his face, it truly strikes me how _aged _the human looks since my last visit. Yes his hair has gotten grayer, but I hadn't expected the many wrinkles surrounding his eyes or the creases in his forehead or how at some place the skin seems thinner and looser than before...

More than 900 years and I still haven't quite managed to deal with just how _tiny_ human lifespans are.

"And you as well, my student. I am glad to see how you have managed to fulfill some of your ambitions for your beautiful planet. A Force-sensitive policing force, huh? It is good to see you and your people doing well." I reply with a broad grin, letting go of my slight melancholy over his ever approaching death and simply deciding to enjoy his current presence as the Count straightens from his bow.

"Thank you Master. It has not been easy, but as you've always said, nothing worth doing ever is. After my people's... _history_ with Count Gora's Security Droids, they are happy to see actual _people _in charge of their safety. Additionally, the fact that these people are empaths makes their peacekeeping and conflict resolution abilities even more impressive. It has also done wonders for people's perception of _me_, I'm surprised to report. It seems my earlier status as a mysterious Jedi, a faction most only know through fanciful stories, had caused them to regard me somewhat wearily. I believe some of them even likened me to a vampire of sorts, a misinterpretation of the Jedi's ability to hypnotize others no doubt. I am _hardly_ a Anzat after all." Dooku replies, shifting his weight into a more relaxed stance (though his posture remains impeccable of course, can't have nobility slouching all over the place after all).

His eyes slide away from my own to land on Anakin, who has moved slightly so he's standing somewhat behind me, clearly intimidated by the Count's somewhat forbidding gaze.

"Ah, I see that the rumors were true. You have taken a new padawan then. And a surprisingly young one at that." he muses, slightly raising an eyebrow.

The words are simply a statement of his observation and to me, who has known him since he was merely a teenager, it is clear he doesn't really mean anything with them. However, due to his naturally deep voice and severe expression, it clearly doesn't sit right with young Anakin, who I can feel tense behind me.

"Yeah? So what, I'm still gonna be the best padawan he's ever got! So... so _there_!" he proclaims loudly, giving a self-satisfied nod as he finds the needed eloquence.

Both Dooku and I are surprised at his sudden outburst, and Dooku is just the slightest bit annoyed at the young child's disrespect, so I turn towards Anakin before my other apprentice can react, wondering where this is coming from.

I don't verbally ask him, merely raising an eyebrow and strengthening the connection in the Force between us.

He shuffles his feet somewhat, sending me a mullish look and I can feel my ears twitch up in surprise at the feelings that I get from him: jealousy and anxiousness.

From what I can puzzle together, Anakin is unsure how to deal with my familiarity with Dooku and our clear Master-apprentice bond, even if it has faded over the years following the Count's own mastery of the Force and my decade-long disappearances. It's the first time he's met someone who shares such a strong bond with me and considering how much of an impact I've had on his life (both saving him and his mother and also being the person he spends most of his time with almost every single day) and the idea of someone else having a better "claim" on me and my time can certainly seem daunting to the nine year old. Which is where his anxiety comes from: for all that I've been trying to slowly ease that aspect of his personality out of him, Anakin still has separation issues and is clearly terrified of the idea that I'll somehow leave him for the clearly more powerful and distinguished Dooku.

I smile at him in the most comforting way I can manage as I basically wrap my presence around his: the closest thing to a hug in the Force. I flood him with reassurance, openly showing him how much I've come to care for him in the seven years since I've taken him under my wing, _showing_ him that there's not shred of doubt in my mind that I'll _never_ abandon him.

Anakin is nearly overwhelmed at this show of affection, but I guide him into calling on the Force to assist in dealing with and subsequently releasing the storm of emotions he feels, allowing him to regain his calm and balance as he takes a few long and deep breaths. All of this merely takes seconds, but Dooku is skilled enough to have caught most, if not all, of it, judging by the calculating look he sends me.

Having been my student for decades, even if I was rather hands-off in regards to his education thanks to his own skill and maturity, he is hardly unused to me being so open in my feelings regarding the people closest to me, but this was unusual even by my non-orthodox standards.

Turning back towards the tall human, I place my three-fingered hand on Anakin's small shoulder and gently shove him forwards so he's standing _besides _me, rather than behind me, shooting Dooku a large grin.

"Count Dooku of House Serenno, meet Anakin Skywalker, son of Shmi. My new apprentice and, by his own claim, the best apprentice I'll ever have." I say with humor lining my voice and it's only my intimate familiarity with the man in front of me that allows me to catch the twinkle of amusement hidden in his dark eyes as he takes in my words.

"Well then, that _is_ a bold claim. What say you to putting it to the test then?"

Former negative emotions all but forgotten (ah, the emotional elasticity of the young), Anakin is nearly buzzing in place as he leans forwards, exited grin stretching on his chubby face.

"Yeah! Bring it!"

* * *

"He's strong."

"Indeed he is."

"Exceptionally so."

"More than most at his age, yes."

"Definitely on the same level that I was when my father left me to be found by the Order."

"Hmm, yes I would agree with that."

"... stronger than you were?"

"Oh, I couldn't say. You know how long it's been since I was that age, not to mention I was already past 60 when I even discovered I was Force-sensitive-"

"_Master_. The truth. Please."

I fall silent beside my old friend as we both stand at the edge of a large clearing in one of Serreno's vast forces, the midday sun softly shining down on our backs. In front of us, there's the sounds of small footsteps slapping against earth, wood and metal as Anakin races through an obstacle course as fast as he can, three small drones nipping at his heels with under-powered lasers.

And he's winning.

Not just winning: he's utterly dominating the course. Neither Dooku or I have interrupted the youth (who we had sent into the field with no further instructions than "just try your best") since he took off in a dead-sprint with a peel of laughter. As such, we hadn't told the kid that this obstacle course was still used by the Force-sensitive Security Forces that Dooku had managed to form upon his return to his new planet.

While his current lap times were already in the top twenty, he hadn't broken any records.

_Yet_.

And he was getting faster.

After a long pause, I let out a deep, tired sigh, opening myself up to the Force, allowing it to both strengthen my fortitude as well as Dooku to look in on my presence as I told him the truth.

"Yes, he is. He's stronger than any Jedi recorded for the past thousands of years. He might prove to be the strongest Jedi of all time." I say with finality, not having to look in his direction to know that Dooku's eyes have widened dramatically.

"So, it _is_ true. He's the Chosen One-"

"_Don't_ speak that title. _Never _where he could overhear it." I snap out and Dooku leans away slightly in shock at my sudden harsh tone, something that has only ever seen me use on criminal elements or on obstinate politicians (same difference, unfortunately) but never at him, or even at a Jedi in general.

At his unasked question I try to struggle to find the correct words.

"It's just... it's not something I would wish to burden him with. He's just a _child_, Dooku. He deserves to be happy and unbothered, at least for a little while."

Dooku doesn't exactly disagree with the sentiment, but he still voices his worries.

"Master... the prophecies-"

"I have already told you this many times, Dooku: do not put too much faith in prophecies. Try to hold fast to what I've taught you. '_We are masters of our fate. We are captains of our soul_'. Destiny is not an immutable object, but something that is shaped and decided by _us_."

"But it has been _proven_ that Jedi Foresight holds true. You yourself have mastered it-"

"They have only held true because they are so vague they _always_ turn out to be true and the only reason I've mastered that particular gift is because I've always tried to _change _that which I have Seen." I cut him off abruptly, showing him my disapproval for digging up the same discussion we've had a thousand times already and from which I always (eventually) made him back down.

But back then he was merely a padawan, or recently Knighted. _Now_ he was not only a Master in his own right (and a particularly powerful one at that, especially once _he_ had taken over Dooku's training), but he also had actual _proof _right in front of his eyes in the form of a small child that easily cleared a five feet wide gap between obstacles with a gleeful smile plastered firmly on his dirt covered face.

"Master. If he were to Fall-"

"He won't."

"But if he _did_." Dooku pressed on, brushing aside my interruption.

How rude.

I'm silent as his stare bores into the side of my head.

"First you warn me of increasing instability and disturbances of the peace in the Outer Regions, something that I've confirmed for myself since the years that I have returned and which, I'll remind you, I have begun to counter-act through initiatives just like the new Exemplar Forces. Then you caution me against a growing Darkness in the _heart_ of the Republic, to the point that you don't even trust them to act against the Naboo Blockade and you hardly seem to trust the Order at all anymore, choosing instead to run all over the galaxy with some unknown, new apprentice at your side instead of showing him the Coruscanti Library of the Jedi Temple. And _then_ I discover that this child is none other than the _Chosen One _himself. So, I ask again: _if _the child Falls... what shall you do? What can we all do in the face of a catastrophe such as that?"

For a very long moment, I remain absolutely silent as the world seems to come to a halt, its colors faded and its sounds muted as the question keeps repeating itself inside my head, louder and louder each time until it's the only thing that I can think of. Even the Force itself seems to have sucked in its non-existent breath as it awaits my answer. Slowly, but steadily gaining strength is a sound that has been haunting my nightmares for almost a thousand years.

The sound of heavy, mechanical breathing.

Something in front of me catches my eyes, a quick flash of gold and my eyes refocus to settle on the grinning face of Anakin as he slides to a stop in front of me, spraying up flecks of mud as he does. His eyes are shining wildly in unbridled enthusiasm and his face is set in a wide smile of innocent youthful abandon. His entire form his absolutely _smeared_ in dirt, from his clothes to his hair, but he hardly seems to notice.

"Did you see me?! Huh?! Did you see it, did you see it! I went like _whoosh_, 'cause the drone got close, but then it went like _whah_ so I had to get up and to the _whoom_ thing that Mundi showed me and I went _aaaaallll_ the way up that wall! High huh?! It was. so. COOL!" Anakin babbles in a single breath, and I hardly even register his words as a soft smile grows on my face as I feel certainly settle once more firmly inside my soul, the Force seeming to wrap itself around me in relief.

"_Very _impressive Anakin. Well done. Now, you must be hungry, so why don't you go to our rooms and get cleaned up, alright? We need to be prepared for when our friends hail us, they'll need our help in saving their people and we can hardly be heroes if we're all covered in _mud_, now can we?" I chuckle, Anakin's eyes widening at the thought of a new adventure (or perhaps at seeing Padme again?) before with a quick wave and a hurried "bye!" he dashes away from Dooku and me.

"And make sure to take your shoes off before you go inside!"

A distracted 'sure!' floats back towards us and I already resign myself to following a track of muddy footprints to our guest rooms. As serenity slowly and somewhat hesitantly flows back into our surroundings again (as it always did when the excitable young boy left a place after overturning it with the hurricane also known as his sheer personality), I look back up at the somewhat taken aback Dooku from the corner of my eye.

As I speak, I can see and feel him nearly shake at the sheer _conviction_ in my voice as I answer his earlier question.

"We'll save him. No matter _what_, we'll save him. Just as he'll save all of us."

* * *

The next day I received a holo-call from Qui-Gonn, revealing things had gone pretty much exactly as I had expected. The Senate wouldn't act, the Order was still skeptic about his claims of being hunted by Sith and once Padme decided to take matters into her own hands and travel to Naboo blockade be damned, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were ordered to tag along. However, this time around there hadn't been a conversation about Anakin in the Council, Qui-Gon keeping his mouth shut and interestingly enough Palpatine hadn't pushed Padme into calling for a Vote of No Confidence, which worried me for several reasons.

If he _wasn't_ pushing to become Supreme Chancellor himself then he either a) wasn't actually Darth Sideous, which I hoped for but found unlikely, or b) his plans didn't require him to wield a higher position of power within the Republic than he already possessed, which worried me far, _far _more.

Dammit, when was the last time I went over which political actions he involved himself in again? Or the last time I checked Plageuis' communications? It must have been months, caught up as I've been in training Anakin. I need to get into contact with my agents ASAP, I need to be ready for whatever fuckery that bastard of a Muun has managed to cook-up in the shadows.

I took care to hide these feelings from Anakin, but I allowed Dooku to catch on to them and the aged human shone with determination in return. I could trust that on Serenno at least, the Sith's machinations wouldn't expand unchecked. The moment Qui-Gon ended the holo-call, Dooku had already notified spaceport control and cleared his personal shuttle for take-off. Theross of course was already standing at the ready to guide us to the proper flight deck and in less than half an hour Anakin and I had entered Hyperspace, traveling towards Naboo at speeds that defied physics.

The plan was very simple: we'd land on one of Naboo's moons, which fell outside of the Trade Federation's blockade as it was solely centered on the planet itself, hopefully managing to disguise ourselves well enough from their long-range scanners. There, Padme's ship would meet us and Anakin and I would board the ship after which we would attempt to break the blockade.

While the trip towards Naboo's system took a couple of hours, our waiting time was surprisingly short, the Queen's ship touching down a mere twenty minutes after we had.

Seems the Force is eager then.

Anakin and I quickly thanked our pilot before switching ships, the Serennian taking off not moments later, eager to put as much distance between its own unshielded and unarmed self and the Trade Federations hulking behemoths. The reunion with the rest of the group was short but heartfelt (though I tried my absolute best to subtly and not-so-subtly avoid Jar Jar at all costs), though we quickly turned to the task at hand.

It was too dangerous to jump to hyperspace from the moon to the planet so we would be approaching with our regular subluminal engines, which in turn meant that we would be in the Trade Federation's sights for longer which of course meant more time for them to try and turn us into a hot fiery ball of plasma.

Something that most doctors would recommend avoiding as much as possible for health-related reasons.

Padme was almost continuously in conference with her security detail, trying to form a strategy to retake the palace and kick Nute off their planet. This saddened Anakin for a bit, until I not-so-subtly steered him to meet R2, and the two immediately struck up a strong friendship.

Currently, Anakin was trying to teach the droid how to play Sabbac, completely disregarding the fact that the astromech didn't have any arms with which to play the game with (I blame our time on Nar Shaddaa for the child's worryingly in-depth knowledge of the poker game).

Obi-Wan was simply meditating, reaching an impressive level of focus for one who had yet to pass his Knight Trials.

Qui-Gon and I… well, we simply sat and drunk tea, reminiscing of our younger days and exchanging news and stories. There really wasn't much else for us to do: we knew that a cloaked enemy would try to oppose us, but given that he was, well, _cloaked_ there wasn't much we could do other than speculate and that would bring us nowhere.

Of course, I knew perfectly well who he was, but since I only had a name and cursory description to give Qui-Gon and we were currently in hyperspace, there wasn't much we could do with that information. I suppose if I had managed to approach Mother Talzin shortly after Maul's birth, I could've tried to convince her not to sell Kycina's son to Sideous, but that seemed highly unlikely at the time. Well over thirty years ago, the Witches of Dathomir and I had a… falling-out, after I brutally slew Talzin's predecessor Mother Zalem on Ova, preventing her from messing about with a Kwa Star Chamber and thus destroying the very planet.

I had tried to explain the necessity of my actions to the Witches, but the Dark Side users had been… less than understanding. The newly appointed Talzin had made it _very_ clear that the next time I set foot on Dathomir, either they would perish, or I.

Yeah, Dark Side users really _did_ tend to deal in absolutes, even those that weren't strictly Sith.

Still, while Ova was saved, the consequences of my actions there had still meant I couldn't prevent Maul from being taken by Darth Sideous, if that event had even happened. My previous knowledge of this universe had shown me much, but after multiple centuries a lot of it was fading and my own Force sight was just as badly affected by the Dark Side as any other Jedi, if somewhat to a lesser extent due to my power. Not to mention the fact that my enemies was just proficient in the skill of foresight as I (or in Sidesous' case, completely unchallenged in it) and they were hardly inactive in trying to counter the changes that I was trying to make.

Still, the fact that the group was pursued by a powerful opponent expertly hidden by the Dark Side was a strong indication that Sideous had still managed to raise his little attack dog in secret, but until we touched down on Naboo there was very little we could do about it.

There was also very little use to us sitting in with the frantic meetings regarding what we actually would do once we had touched down. Padme and Panaka could plan all they wanted, but we were Jedi. We would go where we were meant to go, trusting in the Force. Other than maps with the lay-out of the palace and a rough estimate of the number of enemy forces, there wasn't much else of use that they could provide for us.

Even if they did try to include us in their battle plans, our nature as Jedi meant that we would probably be used in a similar manner to commandos, moving away from the group to secure important objectives and eliminate the most powerful opposition, meaning we would have to rely on our own wits anyways.

Not that we minded secluding ourselves in one of the more spacious rooms aboard the ship: the company was good, the tea was excellent and the brief moment of rest was appreciated.

Of course, the moment I thought that, the Force decided to show its twisted sense of humor once again as Panaka's voice suddenly burst from the speakers in the room as a subtle shudder traveled through the entire ship.

"We have begun our approach for Naboo. Prepare for evasive maneuvers and hopefully atmospheric entry. And hope we don't get blown up."

_'Showtime._' I thought to myself with a grin as Panaka shut off the comm.

* * *

'_Showtime indeed.'_ I wryly thought to myself, nudging the severed head of a B1 battle droid with my three-toed foot.

Standing in the hangar of the Naboo palace, I lazily glanced around at the multitude of mangled artificial bodies scattered around me, many of them still glowing at some points where their limbs had violently been removed from the rest of them.

"You could have aided us." Obi-Wan's voice intrudes on my casual examination of the bloodless carnage at my feet, causing me to glance in his direction.

The young Jedi's tone was carefully controlled in order to make sure it wasn't accusing, since the strict Kenobi wouldn't even dream of talking down to his superior like that. Still, the youth couldn't help but shoot me a questioning look, to which I simply replied with a grin and a shrug.

"Clearly, you did not require it to deal with this particular brand of opposition." I state dryly.

Before Kenobi can ask what I mean by that, the large double doors on the other end of the hangar slowly open, allowing a figure in all black to purposely stride through. The moment he throws back the hood covering his head, exposing his yellowed eyes, red-black skin and horned scalp, the need for stealth is apparently gone as the veil of Dark Side is similarly pulled back, confronting us with the full extent of the Zabrak's rage.

Both Jedi respond by falling in a tense stance, raising their lightsabers in reflex, causing Maul to slowly extend his own perpendicular to the floor, a blood red blade bursting forth with a _snap-hiss!_ before he sinks into a deeper stance, arm extended and eyes focused and a _second_ blade bursts forth as well, visibly taking the Jedi off guard.

… I swear I'm hearing Duel of the Fates right now.

"_That_ particular brand of opposition, however…" I calmly muse, drawing a somewhat disbelieving look from Obi-Wan at my apparent nonchalance, which I ignore in favor of turning towards my young charge.

"Anakin." I simply say, my voice calm but serious, immediately catching the attention of the young boy who swiftly drops the droid head he had been fiddling with and he makes his way over to my side.

"Master?"

"Why don't you hide in one of those fighters for now? This opponent is _very_ dangerous: if he comes back here again and you see him approaching you, take the fighter and leave this place as fast as possible. Understood?"

He's clearly reluctant at the idea leaving me after I told him the red-skinned warrior might defeat me, but years of following me from planet to planet at the drop of a hat has made him accustomed to scenarios like this (after all, _sometimes_ we had to leave a place not because of the mysterious ways of the force, but simply because I had severely pissed someone off, be it in politics or in the underworld).

"Yes Master… be safe."

"Thank you Anakin, I shall definitely try." I reply with an assuring smile, one he bravely tries to reciprocate before he quickly scurries away.

The exchange only took a few moments, but Maul seems impatient (a bad trait for an assassin, but a common one for Sith) as he starts stalking forwards, causing the Jedi to tense even further and move closer to one another.

"Let's take this elsewhere shall we?" I call out, my gravelly voice breaking the sudden tension.

Maul grins at my apparent challenge, whirling his double-bladed staff around in anticipation as a hunger creeps into his look, stalking forwards even further. Right before I lift every single blaster that had been laying in the hangar (courtesy of the freshly minced droids Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had so graciously provided), point their muzzles at him and simply unload.

Other than a snarl of frustration, Maul is not deterred, spinning his staff even faster while deftly stepping away with sure and supernaturally quick strides, the screaming blasterbolts either streaking past his nimble form or being deflected by his flurry of strikes. Still, they are too numerous for him to try anything more than simply deflect, leaving him unable to hit them back towards us and the focus needed to keep himself from being turned into a sieve means he's no longer advancing.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are quick to catch up on my impromptu plan and start hurling droid parts at the Sith as well. The Zabrak's yellow eyes briefly widen, before he desperately bobs and weaves while also trying to keep defending himself from my onslaught of blaster fire. He could cut the droid parts in half, but that would still leave him with two (now superheated) chunks of metal on a direct collision course with his body, and hemmed in as he was by a veritable wall of plasma, he couldn't reliable dodge those as well.

Still, he was _very_ well trained (one does not take down a Jedi of Qui-Gon's caliber without even suffering a single wound themselves if they aren't _significantly_ powerful after all) and though we had him contained for the moment, we had yet to harm him and eventually, the Jedi would run out of artificial bodyparts to throw.

Which is where the next stage of my plan came in. While I had used part of my focus on keeping the two dozen or so blasters aloft and firing, I had simultaneously used the majority of my power to subtly drag the noses of the nearest four fighters to point in Maul's direction. Focused as he was on defending himself from our earlier combined attacks, the Sith had failed to notice their labored movement, even as they slowly turned into position inch by inch.

Right until their turbo-lasers fired of course.

Still, I couldn't really _aim_ their weaponry, just point their hulls in his general direction, but that was sufficient. The nearest two were near enough that their powerful blasterfire impacted close to where Maul was standing, meaning that the resulting explosions in the floor battered his body, which in turn allowed a few bolts to slip past his defense, grazing his legs and arms.

Soon, the torrent of starship-grade weaponry slamming into his end of the hall caused a cloud of dust to form as the heavy lasers turned the previous ornate marble into rubble. I allowed this to continue for several moments before releasing my hold on their firing sticks. A quick wave of my hand and the dust was quickly swept away revealing-

"Shit."

-nothing, other than an empty crater and some torn black fabric. The sound of swift footsteps and a trail of dark blood leading back to where the Zabrak had first entered the hangar clued us in on Maul's attempt at running away from battle.

"After him! Swiftly!" Qui-Gon roared, already moving with Obi-Wan and I on his heels.

The humans might be taller than me, but such things meant little to the Force, allowing me to easily keep up with their hurried strides. We arrived the chamber with the thin walkways and electrified towers easily, and I spotted Maul limping along one of said walkways around fifty meters in front of us. With a frown on my face of concentration, I raised both my hands and with a grunt pulled them back, causing the walkway underneath Maul to buckle, break free from its brethren and fly towards us, flipping end over end.

The Sith had quickly fallen off, losing his footing, but he still had the presence of mind to push off at the last moment, ensuring that he crashed into one of the lower platforms instead of falling to his death in the endless chasm below us. A negligent wave of my hand caused the torn walkway to alter its course, harmlessly sailing past me and my Jedi allies.

Obi-Wan had briefly frozen when the walkway sailed towards us, but Qui-Gon's instincts were more battle-hardened than his apprentice. He barely paid the flying hunk of metal any attention, keeping his eyes on his opponent and gracefully jumping down towards Maul's platform mere moments after the Sith painfully smacked into it.

Still, Maul was fueled by the Dark Side, and his desperation at seeing the descending Jedi gave him unnatural strength. Ignoring the pains of his body, the Sith managed to work himself to a knee, raising his lightsaber just as Qui-Gon descended upon him. Green met red in a brilliant clash, the force of the blow pushing Maul even further down, the lightsabers pushed so close to him that his arms were trembling and the heat of the plasma blades caused his upper robe to start smoking (the parts of it that weren't burnt already, that is).

Still, the Zabrak grit his teeth as he locked eyes with the determined Qui-Gon, before he pushed on his hilt, sliding his lightsaber against Jin's with the furious crackle of Force and plasma, even as the move caused the blades to inch even closer to his face. However, the move was a clever one, as he managed to point the bottom of his hilt straight at the Jedi's stomach.

Obi-Wan and I saw the move for what it was, and I was already preparing to leap into battle as Kenobi cried out for his master, but Qui-Gon showed he had earned the rank of Master as he pivoted away right as Maul's second blade burst forth, barely missing his midsection by just a hair. Impressively, Qui-Gon managed to keep his and Maul's blades locked even during the spin, pressing down as he had better leverage now that Maul was overextended and holding back his green blade at an awkward angle.

Something that was proven when Maul tried to dodge away, hugging the floor as he tried to let Qui-Gon's blade slide off his own, trying to disentangle them. It worked up to a point, but Jin easily moved with the motion, freeing his blade as he spun counter to Maul's movement, bringing his green blade around in a graceful arc straight towards the Sith's approaching torso.

Only the greatest of reflexes and the unnatural strength of the Dark Side allowed Maul to pull up his blade into a guard, but even that was insufficient to protect against the full momentum of Qui-Gon's swing, as he was enhanced by the Light Side of the Force. The impact of lightsaber on lightsaber was masterful and Maul was thrown back several feet, though he immediately turned his fall into a backwards roll and handspring, narrowly avoiding the flurry of Qui-Gon's follow-up attacks.

He tried moving backwards, but in the scant few seconds their altercation had taken place, Obi-Wan and I hadn't been idle. Maul tensed when he heard the sound of soft leather boots striking the metal grating behind him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder as he locked eyes with the tense Jedi padawan, blue saber raised in challenge.

Before he could move, however, his entire body locked up and he sank to his knees with a pained grunt, almost as if a immense invisible weight was suddenly placed on his shoulders. Looking up with blazing eyes filled with pure hatred, Maul identified the sudden source of his latest predicament as he stared up at where I stood on the walkway above him, both hands outstretched at his kneeling form.

"Cease, Sith! There is no hope for victory here!" Qui-Gon called out, though he kept his blade at the ready, Obi-Wan following his master's example.

During the trip to Naboo, I had told my Jedi friend that it would be better in the long run if we could capture Maul so we could extract answers from him and present him as proof to the High Council and the Senate. That being said, Maul was still Sith and therefore automatically amongst the most dangerous individuals in the galaxy: should he prove to be too violent to safely approach or contain, neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan should hesitate for even the slightest moment, but strike him down then and there.

To do otherwise is to risk death.

Having taken my cautionary words to heart, neither Jedi approaches the contained Sith, keeping a wary eye on the blazing red saber still held in his clenched fists and the almost mad look in his hate filled eyes.

"Give up, Maul. The Dark Side shall not set you free this day." I intoned through gritted teeth, struggling to keep my hold on the raging Zabrak who gave his everything trying to break free, as shown by the way his entire body trembled.

"Drop your blade, Sith! We do not seek any further conflict! We merely wish to have our questions answered!" Qui-Gon tried again, switching to a different tactic, but the promise of peaceful resolution is wasted on Sith with a battle high.

At Jin's softer words, Maul lurched in his direction, snarling like an animal and bearing his teeth, arms trembling as he tried lifting his lightsaber. Obi-Wan was startled at the sudden movement, taking a half-step forwards and gripping the hilt of his cobalt blade even tighter, but Qui-Gon was unyielding in the face of the Zabrak's sheer rage. He moved neither backwards nor forwards, holding his position and staring down the raging Sith with a calm expression of his own.

Maul's eyes slid away from Qui-Gon's steely gaze, swinging towards Obi-Wan's more nervous yet equally determined one, before slowly travelling towards my own. Briefly I wondered what he would see in mine. I meant what I had said to Anakin, back on Cerea before we left. Just as the Jedi can fall, the Sith can be redeemed. I knew this for a fact. History had shown it to be the case, and my own knowledge of the future centered around it. If at all possible, I would try to give Maul the chance to abandon the Dark Side and return to sanity.

However, should there even be the slightest inclination of him suddenly going for my allies, or if he proved to be a danger to innocents, I would not hesitate one bit to strike him down in a heartbeat.

I think he saw that conviction within my eyes as he suddenly grinned, looking as if he had come to some sort of decision. It quickly became apparent what that was when he let out a deafening roar (enhanced by the Force, most likely) before he surged to his feet, bringing both arms high above his head despite the heavy toll it put on his body, the sounds of muscles tearing audible even in the cacophony of our surroundings.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were already moving in with their blades, trying to strike the Sith down before he could complete his motions, but they were too late. With a pained cry in which Maul poured all of his hatred and desperation, he _slammed_ his lightsaber down at the grating below his feet, causing the entire walkway to buckle before it _shattered_, the Zabrak falling away as gravity took hold.

It was only their enhanced reflexes that allowed Qui-Gon and his apprentice to move away from the rapidly crumbling walkway in time, both managing to jump to another one at the very last second. This all happened so fast that Maul couldn't have fallen more than a dozen meters since ripping apart the walkway and I narrowed my eyes as I allowed the Force to wholly suffuse my body.

_'Oh no you don't!'_

Moving smoothly at a pace that would make me a blur to the untrained eye, I shot forwards low against the ground towards the edge of the walkway. Gripping the raised metal sides with both hands, my huge momentum caused me to tumble all the way over it as I used a move more commonly seen on the trapeze in a circus. The turn ended when my feet slammed into the underside of the walkway, my arms outstretched behind me still gripping the ledge.

Maul had fallen another couple meters. I flexed my body, building up pure Force and Power as I narrowed my eyes.

I pushed off.

The walkway exploded upwards in my wake, metal groaning and buckling underneath the might of my take-off.

I rocketed past Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, their eyes barely capable of tracking me as I absently noticed their baffled expressions.

Air whistled around me as I closed in on the surprised looking Zabrak. His shock at my sudden impersonation of a missile caused him to be too slow in trying to right himself in mid-air and bring up his lightsaber in defense.

I _slammed _into his chest, my proximity allowing me to hear the squelching of ruptured tissue and the snapping of broken bones in perfect clarity as my velocity changed our combined trajectory from straight downwards to an acute angle.

We _crashed_ into one of the lowest walkways, the metal deforming under Maul's back as all air left his lungs in a single explosive moment. As he was briefly disoriented, I straightened, standing over the downed body of the Zabrak.

Around us, the debris of the destroyed walkways kept tumbling down into the abyss below us.

"Do not try anything Maul. I will know if you do, and the results will be most… _unpleasant_." I warned him, my posture still tense and my claws at the ready.

My only response was a pitiful coughing and rattling, wheezing breaths.

Twin sounds of leather hitting metal alerted me to the Jedi's arriva, as did the steady humming of their lightsabers as its plasma edge cut through the air around us.

"Is it done then, Master?" Qui-Gon asked cautiously, and I shoot him a glance over my shoulder.

"This whole affair is _far_ from done, young Qui-Gon. What we faced here goes far deeper than you know. But yes, this battle is fini-"

"MASTER!"

Obi-Wan's panicked cry rings throughout the cavernous room as a _snap-hiss!_ resounds behind me. I barely have enough time to turn before Maul, having worked himself to his elbows, thrusts his crimson blade towards my chest at breakneck speeds with a hateful snarl, satisfaction and glee filling his maddened yellow eyes.

I'm shoved back by the powerful blow, the soles of my feet struggling to find purchase on the smooth grating underneath us as I can hear the Jedi give panicked shouts. Qui-Gon is already rushing forwards, lightsaber held high to deliver a killing blow, and judging by Maul's grimly smiling expression, he's perfectly fine with that as long as he gets to take me with him.

Unfortunately for him, I'll have to deny him that pleasure.

"Hold!" my voice slams through the chaos surrounding us, the authority in it sufficient to halt both Jedi immediately in their tracks.

Their widened eyes swing towards me, only to widen further as I slowly straighten from my hunched position, showing a feat not seen since Satele Shan last faced Darth Malgus on Alderaan. Even Maul's rage is briefly replaced by pure shock as his eyes slowly travel from his hilt, down the blade, towards the tip… which is struggling against a visible, light blue distortion pooling in my hands, halting the weapon in its tracks.

In that split-second when he launched his surprise attack, I had managed to raise my hands in front of my chest, cupped together, catching the lightsaber on a thick veil of Force. The technique was both extremely difficult (manifesting something as ethereal as the Force into something as tangible as this is no easy feat) and _extremely_ draining. As it was, I couldn't hope to hold back Maul's blade, weakened as the Sith was, for more than a minute or so and his strike had been powerful enough it had still nearly sent me flying off my feet.

Not that it mattered now, since most importantly, it _hadn't_. Maul's last-ditch effort had failed (spectacularly so) and as I locked eyes with him, both my hands still wrapped tightly around the burning crimson tip of his lightsaber, he knew it.

Ifs and maybes didn't matter in the end: I had won, he had lost. No matter what he managed to do to free his blade and attack once more, he had lost the element of surprise and I still had two fresh Jedi close by and very much on edge.

This was the end for him.

"It is over Maul. This is where it ends." I said gravely, my voice steady even as beads of sweat started to form on my craggy brow.

The words spark life in the stunned Zabrak's eyes which flash towards mine. Without warning, a savage smile splits his face as he gives a cruel bark of laughter, which is quickly cut short by a heavy coughing fit, phlegm and blood spilling past his trembling lips and pointed teeth.

He's struggling to even keep himself pushed up on his elbows like this and judging by the fact his legs haven't even so much as twitched so far, I probably broke his spine when I crashed us into this walkway. Still Maul draws on the unholy power of the Dark Side as he manages to sit up a little further, completely disregarding the tearing sound of flesh and of bone grating against bone, a mad gleam in his eye.

"No…" he growls out lowly, his voice a wet rattle as his lungs are steadily filling up with something other than air.

"_This_ is where it ends!"

And with that triumphant roar, he gives a sudden vicious jerk on the lightsaber trapped between us. Thinking he wants to tear it free to have one last swing at me, I merely tighten my grip on the tip of the burning plasma, but I realize my mistake too late.

With my hold at the outer end of his blade, Maul still has the freedom of movement to position the hilt of his weapon… right over his heart. His eyes are locked with mine as his smile widens further, but even as I release the lightsaber as I jump towards him, I know I am too late.

_snap-hiss!_

Maul's second blade bursts forwards…. and straight through his heart.

"NO!"

The Sith's eyes widen briefly in shock and surprise, before they meet with my wide ones. One last gust of air softly passes over his stained lips. And then all strength fades from him as he falls limp against the grating, eyes still wide and unseeing, that same bewildered look plastered over his face.

Gone is the rictus of hate from before, those maddened features twisted by mindless rage and the darkest of thoughts.

As always, the Dark Side had abandoned her toy in its final moments, leaving nothing but a ravaged wreck in her wake. It was something I had seen far too often. So many times I had been left with the consequences of the actions of those who had fallen to her seductive whispers. So many times had I been present when the monster was vanquished, and the mortal remained. It was a lesson that I had seen enforced upon those misguided unfortunates countless times.

It was a lesson they only got to experience once.

"Master?"

It's Qui-Gon who shakes me from my morose thoughts and I briefly close my eyes. As much as I've tried to fight the Dark Side to the best of my abilities, tooth and nail, lightsaber and telekinesis, I always tried to remember the same values that I was trying to instill in Anakin. I _needed_ to believe that redemption was possible, _always_. If not, then not only was there the danger of me turning into a Templar like figure, one who hunted without remorse or question, but even worse than that...

If I stopped believing in redemption… what would become of Anakin?

Would I decide to strike him down now, while he was still undeveloped? Would I start rationalizing the act, loudly proclaim that such a horrific deed was completed solely in the name of some lofty, unknowable Greater Good? If so, could I truly claim that I was a more honest, more "pure" servant of the Light Side than my unyielding brethren amongst the High Council, with their absolute code and inane rules?

No. As hard as it was, I had to be able to feel pity and remorse for my enemies, even a dangerous beast like Maul had been. I had to, if only so that I could pass on this worldview to Anakin.

"It is alright, Qui-Gon. It is always a sad day when the Dark Side forces her victim to pay the ultimate price of serving her. Whenever a conflict has to be solved with the might of our weapons, instead of the truth in our words, a Jedi should always seek further contemplation and knowledge, for he should realize in what ways he failed, perhaps not his duty, but his ideals. Perhaps Maul was beyond all redemption. It would honestly not surprise me if it turned out to be so. But _now_, that shall always remain a question without an answer. Such is the nature of our conflict with the Dark Side, I suppose." I softly muse, before shaking my head again, before looking at the two silent Jedi with a smile.

"Ah, forgive an old man for his rumbling words, please. Death like this… it always causes me some deal of melancholy. Please do not concern yourselves about my wellbeing: I shall meditate on our conflict of today, searching through all possible answers, feelings and contemplations before surrendering those notions to the all-encompassing knowledge of the Force. You are free to join me if you wish to do so?"

Qui-Gon briefly spares a glance towards his young padawan, who has gone back to staring at the still form of Maul, before he looks towards me again, giving me a firm nod.

"Thank you Master. I think it would be wise for us to do so. Obi-Wan hasn't had much experience with death, not so closely at least and I… I must confess, the rage and hatred of our opponent, as well as his skill in the Dark Side has left me… rattled, also."

"What should we do with the-... with the body?" Obi-Wan asks haltingly.

His reaction is understandable. Slicing up droids is a rather different affair than the bloody mess that remained of Maul after my clash with him (speaking of, I only now noticed how my outer robe was liberally covered in the Zabrak's blood, with more covering my face and hands).

I briefly glance at the body in question, before I give a long suffering sigh, before with a _snap-hiss!_ and a flash of crimson, Maul's head is separated from his body, both it and his lightsaber floating to rest in my hands.

"Was that truly necessary, Master?" Qui-Gon asks with a slight frown, while behind him Obi-Wan turns slightly green.

_'Considering he managed to come back to life after being sliced in half and falling down a several kilometer long shaft…'_

"Sadly, yes, young Qui-Gon. Brutal, I agree, but necessary nonetheless. The Dark Side is a pathway to abilities many would find unnatural. Battered as Maul's body was, his Master would likely have been able to resurrect it in some fashion nonetheless, turning his apprentice into an even greater danger. Sith creations such as that inevitably carve a path of death and destruction across the galaxy, and a revived Maul would be no different. Many an innocent and Jedi alike would fall to his endless hatred should that come to pass. So, again, brutal, but _necessary_ nonetheless." I caution, before turning away and steadily making my way down the walkway.

Not hearing any footsteps in my wake, I shoot them a glance over my shoulder as I raise an impatient eyebrow.

"Well? Come on then! Pick up his body and follow me. It is high time we returned to the main palace. No doubt the day is won and they are simply waiting to hand out well-deserved praises and have prepared plenty of sweets!"

And with those words, I continued walking. This time, it only took a few moments before a twin pair of footsteps fell in behind me.

"What's next, Old Wanderer?"

"Coruscant."

* * *

"The High Council will see you now." the young Twi'lek padawan stated in a high-pitched voice, adorably trying (and utterly failing) to not stare too obviously at me.

Giving the child a nod of thanks, I glance at the tall human besides me.

"Well, go on then. I think it is best if you walked in first."

Qui-Gon merely looks down at me with an amused expression on his face.

"You're merely saying that in the hope they focus their ire on me first."

"Partly. The other part is that, in the case of a lightsaber swinging out the moment we open that door, I would much rather stand _behind_ you." I remark dryly, getting a chuckle out of Qui-Gon.

"Surely Master, things aren't _that_ bad now…"

He slowly trails off as I give him a _look_.

"Surely not?" he asks with a nervous chuckle, though I simply raise my eyebrow higher.

"If you truly believe in the level-headedness and overall meganominity of our _glorious_ leaders… then why have you not yet entered already?" I ask with a smirk as I narrow my eyes.

Qui-Gon looks away from me with an embarrassed cough, though he can't hide the sudden slight sheen of sweat on his brow.

Our brief mental spar is broken by the annoyed voice of Anakin, who's standing next to a baffled Obi-Wan as they're watching us.

"Man, this waiting around is getting boring! We were invited in, so let's go already!"

And with those words, the child swiftly marches past us, pushing open the heavy doors leading to the Council Chambers, throwing them wide open and boldly striding inside… for about five steps, before he fully registers the heavy gazes of nearly a dozen Jedi Masters as they instantly lock onto his form.

"Uhhh…. hi?" he asks in a small voice and a hesitant little wave.

Seeing _very_ little reaction at that (other than a slight twitch in Master Shaak Ti's lips which he completely misses), Anakin goes red as a tomato, before clearing his throat, his nervousness evident.

"Right! You wanted to see my Master right? He's right here! Go stare- I mean _talk_ to him!"

And with that, Anakin swiftly turns around, grabs me by my sleeve and bodily drags me inside, swiftly placing me in the center of the room so that he's placed securely at my back.

_'The little traitor!'_ I grouse goodnaturedly to myself. After all, if I had really wanted to stop him, he wouldn't have been able to even nudge me from my spot. Still, I had to face the music _sometime_ even if it was on the insistence of my young padawan because he didn't like being stared at by a bunch of very powerful, _very_ dour looking strangers.

I briefly scan over the Council members present, recognizing most of them, though there are some new faces since my last visit, now a few decades ago. Ultimately, I brush past them, focusing solely on the diminutive figure sitting at the centre of the half-circle, his gnarled hands gripping the thick top of a short walking stick, white tufts of hair on his nearly bald head illuminated from behind by the setting Coruscanti sun, long ears flattened against his small skull.

And wide eyes narrowed to slits as nostrils flare and a wide mouth is set in a deep frown. When the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order speaks, his voice is cold and dry, void of the paternal warmth he has been known for for these past eight hundred years or so.

"Yondu."

All in all, it's like looking at my own face staring back at me, and I can't help but let out a wide, cheeky grin as I lock eyes with Yoda himself.

"Hello there… little brother."

* * *

**Fun Fact**: N'Sync nearly had a cameo in _Attack of the Clones_. They were added in at the request of George Lucas' daughter. Thankfully, they were removed during the final cut.

**AN**: Be honest: when did you realize who exactly the SI was? Let me know!

**AN2**: So this was an idea that I had even before my car accident, but when I sat down a few days ago, I realized that I wasn't in the right headspace to continue writing on 12 Steps. Perhaps because some of the coming chapters in that story can get quite dark. Instead, I had a Star Wars fic rattling around in my brain because I recently got back into playing Star Wars: The Old Republic. I had a wild variety of things that I maybe wanted to do, ranging from a Gen'Dai SI during the Cold War, or a Dashade some decades before the sequels and, get this, even as a Rancor SI that would either befriend a young Anakin or Luke on Tatooine (somewhat out of necessity, because as far as Rancors who find themselves in society are concerned, it's either bonding to a Force sensitive or it's straight to the gladiator pits with you). While these ideas were fun, they didn't really inspire a story or a setting, before I settled on becoming Yoda's twin (Yondu's comment of "little brother" is mostly needling, he was born three minutes earlier, which when compared to over 900 years means… absolutely nothing, really). Not only did it feel unique (as far as I know, it hadn't been done before), but I immediately knew where to take such a character. In large part this is due to having read _How not to raise a Sith Lord_ by WillyDJ since I really enjoyed the way his SI handled Anakin (laid back and very open-minded, leaning away from the more traditional and strict Jedi teachings without just saying "fuck it" and going rogue or something). For my own story, I wanted Yondu to hit a note somewhere between Shifu from Kung Fu Panda, combined with the more trolling Yoda on Dagobah and in the Last Jedi (puppet Yoda being one of the very, _very_ few things that movie genuinely got right). I also wanted him to truly feel old as well, so that you can really feel those 900 years of running around the galaxy trying to keep it together long enough for the Chosen One to arrive. Going by Kung Fu Panda parallels (what? It's a great movie, don't judge me) again, I suppose I went for a more Oogway feel, especially when he's giving Po or Shifu a pep talk, while not losing any humor. So yeah, let me know how I did on that front!

_As always, I wish to thank my lovely patrons, Shaman95, IronmanMarkIV, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, Sam, CJ Elsen, Thordur Hrafn, Carn Krauss, DavidJP, ReaperScythe, CrankyD, Devon, Yan R. Bernier, RC Oprea, Kyle Reese, Kahn, RLStrained, Roman Krupkin and Vu for their continued support, it truly does mean a lot to me Thank you so much!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

* * *

"Should have known, you were involved. Always at the heart of a crisis, you can be found." The Grandmaster of the Jedi slowly says.

It might have been considered a backhanded compliment, if it weren't for his pronounced frown and narrowed eyes. Yoda was once again… less than pleased, with the way I ran headfirst into trouble, even if he didn't _explicitly_ say so.

After nearly a millennium of being brothers, you can tell such things from a mere glance.

I unrepentantly shrug my shoulders, drawing in my Force presence closer to myself even as I simultaneously try to feel out the other Council members. Most of them are fairly neutral (or as neutral as they can be where I'm concerned) deciding that they'll withhold judgement on the current matter until they have more information available.

Considering that their orders to Qui-Gon had simply been "don't let the 14 year old Queen of Naboo blow herself up", the fact he came back with me, my apprentice and a body bag in tow clearly indicated things had evolved beyond the scope of what they had anticipated.

Some, like Windu and Saesee Tiin, were more guarded about the whole thing, mostly because of their distrust of me and my history of running around the galaxy without really bothering to listen to Coruscanti orders or dogma. My militaristic (or as my brother would put it "reckless bordering on the aggressive") attitude also had made some of the more passive Masters, like Oppo Rancisis, weary of how my involvement in matters had undoubtedly escalated an already very delicate situation.

Yoda was another matter entirely. Even though to many in the Galaxy he was considered mysterious, to me he was an open book and I knew, even as I drew my Force presence into myself, the reverse was true as well. Ever since we were children, not even trained in the way of the Force, we could always feel the other and this bond only grew over the many centuries, both in range and in detail. By the time we were 400 to 500 or so years old, we had become able to sense one another across continents and know what the other was feeling at any time.

For the last few centuries however, though the range has kept increasing to planetary levels, our bond has grown duller and unless we are face to face, we can no longer tell what the other is thinking. Part of that is Yoda's adherence to the old teachings of releasing his emotions and thoughts into the Force, part of that is my continued shifting towards serving a different aspect of the Force than he and part of that is simply because of the way we have been drifting apart.

But right here, standing a mere couple of feet away from each other? As much as we might want to, there was no hiding anymore and just as Yoda could undoubtedly feel my own brash irreverence, he could not disguise his own irritation.

We loved each other still, of course. We were family, _brothers_, after all. But over the course of centuries our views and opinions had shifted too far apart from each other, perhaps irrevocably so.

Which is why there was just the slightest hint of heat in my voice when I answered his unvoiced question after a few moments.

"Well, since I see it as a Jedi's task to always stand fast against whatever crisis threatens the innocent, I thank you for acknowledging my role in facing yet the latest one that has troubled the galaxy."

My unvoiced accusation that I always _had_ to be the one running towards danger because the other Jedi present didn't do so didn't go unnoticed and I saw several of them bristle as the mood in the council room turned sharper.

Yoda didn't outwardly respond beyond a narrowing of his eyes, even though his presence in the Force swelled until it dominated the room, clearly broadcasting his disapproval.

In response, I released the tight hold I had on my own presence, allowing it to spill out of my diminutive form as it swelled against Yoda's like the rising of the tide, matching his in strength and willpower. Outwardly, however, I merely raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"This crisis was not one for the Jedi to interfere with, beyond that which we have already done. A matter between Naboo and the Trade Federation, this was. Naboo's plea for aid to the Senate didn't go unnoticed. A Master and his padawan were asked, a Master and his padawan were sent. Made sure the Queen and her Senator could address the Senate, they did, as was asked of the Order. Official channels-"

"Official channels would have done _nothing_! _Are_ doing nothing, even as we speak! Instead of responding with _actual_ aid, they are still in conference, hemming and hawing over the appropriate cause of action! Meanwhile, more and more droids were landed on Naboo's surface every minute that was wasted by the Repulic, its people rounded up and robbed of their freedom, or worse, their very _lives_! How is a Senate's meeting supposed to save them? How are a mere _two_ Jedi, amongst the _hundreds_ available, supposed to save them? If it weren't for the peace between the Gungans and the Naboo, which _I_ have helped broker over the course of _decades_, then Theed would have been lost! The Trade Federation would have had their hostile take-over, but instead of a firm or a company, they would've stolen a _planet_! And the Republic would have _let them_!" I explode in response, causing the masters to tense as they shoot me wary looks.

Behind me I can _feel_ Anakin stiffen, not having seen me this angry very often and never where he could feel its resonance in the Force so clearly. Behind him, Qui-Gon is clearly struggling to keep a calm expression, but Obi-Wan has gone completely ramrod straight, shocked at a challenge being thrown into the faces of the greatest governing body he acknowledges, and with such vitriol as well.

"This is blatantly untrue. The Republic would have responded in the appropriate fashion, responding through diplomatic means. The Jedi would have been sent, either to reinforce the chosen Senators or fulfilling the mission on their own merits. Reparations would have been demanded of the Trade Federation, and they would have acquiesced, allowing for peace-" Master Tiin tries, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand and a snarl on my face.

"You _dare_ speak of peace? Of _reparations_? What good will fines do for the bodies that now fill the freshly dug graves on Naboo? What good will new legislation do for the families that now feel the pain of loss? This blockade was a fiasco and no amount of _diplomacy_ could have averted it. The only reason Naboo isn't a lifeless piece of rock and ash right now is because the Trade Federation valued its Tibanna Gas stores too greatly, and for all his greed and short-sightedness, Nute Gunray possesses sufficient amounts of low cunning to recognize the Royal Family for the bargaining chip that they could have been." I growl out, before letting my stare slowly slide from one Master to the next, until I finally let it rest on Yoda.

He's the only one who stares right back at me, the only one capable of maintaining eye contact.

"Make no mistake: if it were _anyone_ else, the population of Naboo would have either been eradicated, or enslaved wholesale. Diplomacy would not have saved them, no more than it would have been effective if my group hadn't disrupted Gunray's plan at the last minute: with the population and the resources of Naboo under his control and with the army at his back, he could've come up with any number of unreasonable demands and the Senate would've capitulated. And through their weakness, the Jedi would've been taken out of the equation entirely, as it would probably be his first demand: it would've been mine had the positions been reversed."

"Then what do you suggest, Yondu? Hmm? That the Jedi become a collective of mavericks, charging headlong into battle without regard for rule or law? To protect the Republic, is our sacred duty. The Republic is governed through democracy, and so the Senate exists. To protect the Repulbic then, follow the Senate we must. Perfect it is not, but it has brought _peace_ and _stability_. Deny this, do you?" Yoda is quick to answer.

This has become familiar over the course of centuries, after all. These types of discussions have been running hot between us ever since we both attained the Rank of Master and started taking on padawans, disagreeing on what we should teach them and which path we'd like them to follow. The discussion of the role of the Jedi regarding the Republic (or rather, its often ineffective governing body) has been one of the oldest and lies, amongst several others, at the root of my decision to distance myself, both from the Order and from him.

"It has brought peace for the Core World at the cost of rising mayhem in the Outer Rim, where the reach of the Republic falters and where the Jedi are more myth and legend than the peacekeepers you claim yourselves to be. It _appears_ to have brought stability, but it is merely the chosen disguise of stagnation. The Jedi have tied themselves to the floating wreckage of a gargantuan starship and just because it keeps floating through space, they claim it's clearly functional because it's still fulfilling its primary function of movement. But drifting around isn't the same as moving forwards and now the Naboo crisis has shown the powerlessness of the Jedi and Republic both."

"Wreckage, you say. Powerless, you say. Tell me, brother, merely been staring at your feet on your approach to the Temple, have you? The Jedi now finally have regained the numbers not seen since the New Sith Wars. For almost a thousand years, we no longer have to act as soldiers and commanders, forced to fight against the horrors of the Dark Side, pain and death our most common companions. Once more, we are _protectors_ and _diplomats_. No longer merely a tool of death and destruction, the lightsabre is, but a symbol of justice and freedom and our padawan are free to grow old and content. Tell me brother, is this not peace then?" Yoda challenges me, his fingers tightening around his gnarled walking stick.

The dig at _my_ tendency to claim having fought Dark Side horrors in every forgotten nook and cranny of the universe, with pain and death as _my_ companions goes unsaid, but not unnoticed and I can feel my large ears flatten themselves against my skull as I bare my two rows of small pointed teeth.

"And so we come to the crux of the matter. Even a thousand years after their defeat, the Brotherhood of Darkness can still claim victory, given how they have affected the Republic, and even _your_ reasoning, brother. Even now, you fear the role we had to play in the New Sith Wars and in doing so you try and shun the idea of a new Army of the Light, disregarding all the good that they have accomplished. More so than you fear the Dark Side itself, you fear what will happen to those of the Light who dedicate themselves to fighting it in all its horrid shapes. You run from the fight, you run even from yourself! If the teachings of the Jedi weren't locked up in its duracrete towers on Coruscant, but spread across the Galaxy, if tyranny found its path blocked by lightsabres at every turn, imagine the peace that could be achieved! Not just for the Core Worlds, not this stagnation that stifles you all, but _true_ peace!"

"And what is there to stop the new Force Adepts from abusing their position of power? Train people in the Force, train them to believe they have the right to police and punish their fellow beings, and how long until we have created our own Sith? Hmm? How long until the Exemplar Forces of our former student start _controlling_ freedom instead of safeguarding it, hmm? Always speaking of Armies when you come back here you do. Caution us against the continued machinations of enemies long ago defeated, you insist. You would have the Jedi go back to being commanders and soldiers, thrust back into conflict. Back into fear and despair. You would have me place a lightsabre in the hand of every padawan and send them out to fight against the living shadows of your own paranoia! No. This is best. This _is_ peace, even if you cannot see it. The Jedi as we are now are detached from all conflict and thus from the predation of the Dark Side, removed from any position of power and thus from any ambition for it. To be fair, to be impartial, to be _truly_ neutral negotiators for peaceful resolutions and keeper of the tenets of the Republic, this allows us." Yoda replied, giving a firm nod and shooting me a challenging glare, daring me to refute his words.

After all these centuries, he should've known better by now.

"I've never agreed with your adherence to the teachings of Cala Brin. You are always so fond of teaching 'fear is the path of the Dark Side'. I would ask you then: why do you fear fear? You fear what fear might do to the Jedi. You fear what power might do to them. You even fear what such fears will do to yourself and all you end up doing is releasing all these contemplations into the Force and continue along as you have for the past 600 years. Above all things, Yoda, you fear one thing: change. You fear the possibility that the current status quo following the Ruusan Reformation will shatter. I am here to tell you that it already has, if it ever did exist in the first place."

Mace Windu jumps into the discussion, bravely trying to keep things from escalating even further between me and my brother, shaking us both from our stare down. As he speaks and Yoda and I reign in our presence in the Force, I can hear Anakin and Obi-Wan (and funnily enough even some of the other Council Members) softly take deep gulping breaths now that the oppressive pressure has been lifted.

"You speak then of our ancient enemies? This change you speak of, it is because of the Sith then? Have you finally found proof of their involvement, a clue within the Naboo crisis?" the dark skinned human asks sternly, eyes focused like lasers on my own.

Mace and I have a… complicated relationship. Even in canon the man was weary for the return of the Sith and I have found him to be a man of action, one who sees the Republic as an ideal that should be protected with (purple) lightsabre in hand. Over the course of his rise through the Jedi's ranks, he has proven to be one of the more willing to listen to my warnings of the Sith still hiding in the shadows and he was one of my fiercest defenders after I was brought before the Senate following my very publicised killing of Rugess Nome. During his younger years, as he was struggling with creating and mastering his own Lightsabre Form, Vapaad, I gave him a few pointers whenever our paths crossed. While the other Masters feared his dabbling into his connection to the Dark Side, I taught him to fully embrace _all_ of his emotions and aspects, even the negative ones, in order to fully master himself, and thus Vapaad.

On the other hand, the discrepancy between the amount of warnings I gave and the amount of concrete proof I could present to support those warnings was starting to chip away at his patience. He wanted to act, but felt that he couldn't unless I could present him with a clear target, one that was undoubtedly an enemy of the Order he cherished so much. The likes of Hugo Damask who had expertly kept his (figurative) nose squeaky clean hardly counted. Even though he was but a youngling at the time of my killing of Darth Tenebrous, Mace had still been (somewhat) aware of the gargantuan fall-out that entire debacle had caused and he wasn't keen on repeating my mistakes.

Additionally, while somewhat of a maverick in his own right (as the creation of Vapaad could attest to), Windu had a tendency to be a stickler for the rules and was fiercely loyal to my brother and the traditionalist teachings of the Jedi. My own complete disregard for the authority of both the High Council and the Senate as well as my practically exiled status within the Order went against every sense of propriety that he had.

In short, while I could trust Windu to always act in a way that he thought would benefit the Order and the Republic as a whole, I couldn't count on those acts actually aligning with my own goals and advice.

Still, in the canon timeline, the word of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been sufficient in convincing the Masters that the Sith had returned, or at the very least someone very adept in the Dark Side. This had allowed them to identify that the Separatist Army had a Dark Lord as its overlord, even if they had been distracted by Darth Tyrannus drawing their attention to him until it was too late and Sideous had managed to take over the Republic from the inside.

With my apprentice firmly on the side of the Light, if not exactly on the side of the Jedi, and with Palpatine seemingly content with his position as a mere Senator, and of course Plagueis still walking around there was no telling how events would now unfold or how the Jedi would react to the threat of the Seperatists.

Fortunately, I _finally_ had more concrete proof than some mere Sith artefacts that had been dismissed as mere trinkets in the collection of a wealthy collector, turning towards Mace as I answered his question.

"Indeed, young Master Windu. The Force had foretold me that my apprentice and I would need to assist our fellow Jedi on Tatooine. Following its will, we travelled there were we met Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as expected. Qui-Gon confided with me that he had felt a Dark presence hounding their steps. While well hidden, it revealed the full depth of its fury when we made our escape, before it was smothered and once again hidden from our senses. We both believed this presence to be of the Sith, and since it was aided by another, he was probably part of the Order of Bane, following the Rule of Two."

Here I pause, glancing over my shoulder at the tall human in question, who calmly takes a half step forwards and gives a firm nod towards the other Masters. Judging from their lack of surprise, they had probably already covered this when he had gone to make his report while Anakin and I were waiting on Serenno.

While wary, most of them didn't seem fully convinced yet, which is probably my fault. I've been crying wolf for so long now (at least from their point of view) that they have become somewhat immune to threats of the Sith returning, even if I'm not the one doing the warning. After all, Qui-Gon had a reputation for being a rebel, and through his master Dooku was clearly connected to me and my views and teachings.

"This threat remained hidden until our group managed to slip past Nute's blockade and enter the Royal Palace, where he confronted us in person. A Zabrak, clearly well trained in the Dark Side, opposed the three of us in a running battle and came quite close to killing me." I continue, showing them the palm of my right hand which is covered in a slight smattering of already healing blisters.

I feel satisfaction rise within me when several of the Masters sit up straighter in their low chairs, attentive eyes flitting from my wounded hand to me and back again as I describe the encounter blow by blow. Three Jedi, all powerful for their respective ranks within the Order and yet our opponent not only managed to hold off our combined attacks but also managed to do lasting damage to me _through_ my defences? That is a clear indication that whoever we faced was no mere novice in the Dark Side, a fallen padawan or someone who stumbled across a tome of forbidden knowledge.

No, _this_ particular Zabrak has had training, a lot of it and high quality as well, no doubt from the second presence.

Yoda has stilled completely as his eyes are fixed on my wounded hand, though he clearly takes in the rest of my tale. As my words finally come to a halt after I've described how Maul chose to take his own life rather than be captured, he closes his eyes as his large ears droop low and he grows… smaller, somehow. He lets out a deep, tired sigh before focusing back on me and despite the fact that I know I'm closer than ever to actually winning an argument between us, that I can _finally_ convince my brother than our people should _act_, I cannot help but echo his tiredness.

A victory, yes, but at what cost? My brother's worries were hardly unfounded after all, especially now that the scant knowledge I had for the coming years was getting more and more derailed.

"Proof of this, have you."

It wasn't really a question, so I didn't bother answering, instead turning back towards the closed door leading towards the Council chambers as I opened them with a wave of my hand. As they silently swung wide, I beckoned towards the two droids that had been patiently waiting outside, who at my command immediately moved into the room, dragging a low flatbed behind them, its repulsor engine giving out a soft but droning hum as it levitated the whole structure a consistent two feet off the ground.

On the flatbed was a zipped up body bag.

I make to move towards it, before I remember the child standing very still and quietly at my back. Turning towards Anakin, I school my features to be as kind as possible, reaching out towards my apprentice to the Force, shame lancing through me when I notice his anxiousness, which is partly aimed at the Council Members and Yoda in particular, but a not insignificant part is aimed at me as well.

I should have thought of him before I flew off the handle like I had. Both Yoda and I should've known better than allow the discussion to get heated like that, but we had a way of pushing each other's buttons in way that not even slimy politicians or hateful Dark Siders could manage.

"Anakin. Do you want to wait outside while we do this? I can tell you're tired, there are rooms prepared for us if you want to go and rest for a bit. I can answer any questions these Jedi might have regarding you, so there's no pressing need for you to remain here if you do not want to. And even if I prove to be incapable of doing so, we'll be staying at the Temple for a while still, so such discussions can be held at a later date." I say gently, trying to tear Anakin's gaze away from the body bag a mere couple of feet away from him.

After a few long deliberate moments, Anakin shakes his golden head before locking eyes with me.

"No, Master. I'd like to stay."

I give a slow nod, disregarding Shaak Ti's deep frown at letting such a young child be confronted so closely with death (no wonder she was chosen to train the clones in the canon timeline, her motherly instincts and great strength would've served her well in such a capacity) and turn back towards the body bag.

With a flex of my will and a sharp gesture of my hand, the zipper flies down the length of the black synthetic material and the bag smoothly falls open, showing the mangled corpse of Maul, son of Kycina to the Jedi High Council. Some of them reel back from the sheer extent of his wounds, and I can see Yoda frown deeply when he notices that the head is merely lying above the neck, though no longer attached to the body at all.

Given that my tale ended when Maul pierced his own heart, it's immediately clear to him that this was done by me _after_ his death and he shoots me a dark look.

"Barbarous, this was."

"It was _necessary_." I reply immediately, before letting my gaze once again roam across the assembled Jedi.

"Make no mistake: even the wounds that you see here before you would not have stopped his master's attempts at raising him. Perhaps this young man's rage would've been great enough to even raise _himself_ back to un-life: we are all familiar with the legends of Darth Sion, we know this to be possible. The magicks of the Nightsisters of Dathomir are interwoven in his very flesh and I have told you many times of the abilities that I fear Darth Plagueis possesses. I did not wish to do it, but I felt that this was the _only_ way to guarantee that he would stay at rest, to deny him to the temptations of the Dark Side for good." I say strongly, and some of them, like Windu and Even Piell give strong nods as they take my words to heart.

"Hmm. Above all then, tragic, this is." Yoda finally responds, his tired tone returning in full force, and I can't help but agree with him.

"We can all feel the touch of the Dark Side on his person. No doubt the intense training that he has received, perhaps even more than that if what you say of this Darth Plagueis' skills are to be believed. But you also said that the magicks of the Nightsisters are involved? I'll admit, out of all of us here, you probably have the most experience with them. Giving how… _tense_ things are between our two factions after your killing of their previous Mother, can we expect further aggression from them? Already they advertise "anti-Jedi" assassins and mercenaries, should we be wary of further conflict now that you have slain one of their sons as well?" Adi Gallia speaks up in a clear tone, her eyes focused and intent.

A capable warrior and surprisingly straight forwards for a Council Member, she was one of the Jedi who could tentatively be classified to be in my corner, so to speak. Not as much as the likes of Qui-Gon or Syfo, or Dooku before he left the Order, but she was usually one of the more willing to see things from my point of view.

"No more than what we can expect in retaliation from his Sith masters, I suspect. At least for now. As I have said, given the current divide between the Core Worlds and the Outer Rim, I cannot help but see the Naboo Crisis as a prelude to a galaxy spanning conflict. _When_ it breaks out, I can guarantee that they will side with our enemies. Our only advantage in this is that I hardly doubt there's any love lost between the Nightsisters and the Sith who trained this youngster. Especially if they blame each other for his failure and lacking strength, as they will undoubtedly call it." I say grimly.

"We know the Witches are based on Dathomir, even if the place is a death-trap I would hesitate to send even a battalion of Jedi Knights into. Still, we can locate them if we must. But these Sith masters you speak of. What do we know about them? You have been claiming for years that Damask II was the apprentice of Darth Tenebrous, who you say you killed by slaying Rugess Nome. Both of these claims have hardly been validated over time due to a continued lack of evidence. How does this corpse change that?" Windu asks, mind flitting from one possibility to the next, firing away as he tries to come up with a concrete plan of action, something that he can immediately implement to safeguard his people and destroy our enemies.

No doubt he's been trying to find some of his famed Shatterpoints, though nothing on his face or in the Force indicates how successful he's been in finding any.

"He was carrying nothing identifying on his person and the fabric of his cloth is so common that it can likely be traced back to hundreds of potential manufacturers. I'll leave samples for you to study of course, maybe the Force may guide us where spectrometers fail, but I'm not counting on it. What I _do_ have, however, is this."

And with those words, I take Maul's double-bladed lightsabre from my wide robes, floating it upwards towards the centre of the room before allowing both crimson beams to extend with the familiar _snap-hiss_.

"Further proof that this Sith had a Master. Beyond the skills of a mere apprentice to create, this blade is." Yoda says softly, eyes narrowed at the intimidating weapons that casts the room in a slight reddish hue.

Rugess Nome (or his apprentice) had been either been very clever or just very nostalgic, but his lightsabre had been positively ancient, possibly older even than the New Sith Wars. Since my confrontation with him had basically been me storming his office and him throwing bolts of lightning at me in turn, there hadn't really been any time to question him, so I had no idea why he used the damned thing. He had probably stolen it from some forgotten Sith Lord's tomb or something and kept it around as a memento of his own rise to power.

Whatever the true reason may have been, it had proven to be a pain in my ass when I was put on trial before the entirety of the Senate. Intentional or not, the lightsabre's great age and ornate decorations had allowed my prosecutors (a team of litigators hired by Nome's starship company and either paid or influenced by the Sith) to successfully argue that the famous designer only had it in his possession because he had a love for antiquity and was unaware of the thing's actual status as a highly dangerous weapon.

Combined with my blatant disregard of the Jedi's official authority and inability to provide any further hard evidence beyond pointing towards equally ancient Sith-y artefacts (which were equally easily dismissed), I had never been able to make my accusations stick, though I had caused enough doubt that I wasn't truly punished for Nome's death beyond paying a fine and handing my own lightsabres over to the Jedi Council for a period of fifteen years.

Given that I have made several over the last few centuries, this was hardly a loss, but it still stung somewhat that the evidence I was banking on hadn't been enough to sway either the Senate or my own brother.

_Now_ however, they couldn't make such excuses. While the model for the lightsabre was very old, the actual weapon itself was very clearly brand-spanking new, probably created by Maul during the final stages of his apprenticeship, which might have been as a recent as only a few years ago.

And, as Yoda has immediately recognized, it would've been impossible for him to create it entirely from scratch on his own. _Someone_ must have either shown him extremely detailed designs and/or guided him through the creation process.

I finally had my proof: the Sith were still alive and even now they were active, fashioning weapons and training others in the power of the Dark Side.

"I see. I'll admit that this is compelling proof that this acolyte has a master, but how does this confirm that the Muun banker is said master?" Windu presses, hitting the only snag in my arguments.

"It doesn't." I admit readily to the surprise of the others present.

"If you were to break open this lightsabre, you'd find that it is powered by twin synth-kyber crystals, the same power source that has been present in all Sith lightsabres since the reign of Darth Revan and Darth Malak. The creation of these type of kyber crystals is dangerous, but not particularly difficult as its base components are readily available throughout the universe. So I will not push for yet _another_ investigation into the holdings of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, though I will hold on to my own suspicions. No, the main point I will argue today is the fact that this apprentice was capable of creating _two_ such powerful crystals _without_ blowing himself to smithereens. As my brother said, this should be beyond the scope of a mere novice's abilities: he has a Master, who was strong enough in the Dark Side to almost utterly shroud his apprentice from the senses of a Jedi as accomplished as Qui-Gon, even across interplanetary distances." I continue, watching as realization sets in with the other Jedi.

"Whoever his master is, whether or not it is actually Damask or not, is not the issue. The issue is that the Sith are still around, and they are _strong_. Stronger perhaps than ever before, even though their numbers are probably, _hopefully_, at an all-time low. A necessity, in order to keep the amount of anonymity they have enjoyed for so long."

For a moment, an oppressive silence hangs over the room, before it's broken by Yoda.

"The Sith still live. The Outer Rim is growing desperate. And even in the heart of the Republic, of the Order, Darkness clouds our senses. Perhaps… perhaps it is time then. Perhaps, as I feared, it shall prove to be: change shall sweep the galaxy." My brother slowly says, and internally I wince a bit when he glances at me during his last sentence, referencing my earlier outburst.

Still, I press on.

"Then how shall the Jedi react? What would you have our people do?" I implore, but Yoda raises a claw and gives a small shake of his head.

"For now? Think on this, we all must. If your claims prove to be true, _ready_ the Jedi must be. But I will _not_ have us run around the Galaxy, uprooting rock and tree in a desperate hunt. No. We shall meditate. Look to the Force for guidance, we shall, and the Force will answer. Peace must be kept, and our people safe." He intones, and I bristle, something that doesn't go unnoticed.

"Trust me in this, Yondu. Trust in the ways of the Order that has stood for a thousand generations. Believe you now, I do, but share your reckless zeal I do _not_. Our people, we must think of, and the Senate as well. From within the Republic there is also the threat of the Dark Side: the Order must be careful if we don't want to give it an advantage to strike against us from the shadows. In this case, follow my orders you _will_. Wait, at least until the Council has reconvened. And only _then_, after hearing _all_ of our thoughts, you may decide whether or not you'll heed the Council's course. Should you choose to run off still… the Jedi will not stop you." He says with quiet determination and I have no choice but to grit my teeth and back down.

I was hardly going to prove myself a hypocrite after telling Qui-Gon we must band together not even two days ago after all. As much as this continued slowness to act from the Jedi annoyed me, even after they've _finally_ accepted the point I've been trying to make for _centuries_, I must accept that, just because they no longer disagree with me, they have given up on their own opinions or ways of thinking.

Yoda clearly seems to think that slow and steady will win the race, that a deliberate and measured response is the way to act against the threat hidden inside the multitude of cracks of the waning Republic and so that is how the Jedi Order will proceed, whether I like it or not.

Feeling that this particular discussion has come to a close, I shut off Maul's lightsabre and catch it in my hand before slipping it into my wide robes again. A flick of my wrist, and the body bag zips itself shut again, and behind me I can feel Anakin give a slight breath of relief now that the gruesome sight is hidden from view.

Death is still new to him, and I don't think that he has fully comprehended that his own attack on the Trade Federation Droid Control ship has likely led to the death of several dozen organics as well. It is a subject I'll have to discuss with him in the near future, but I'm willing to let it rest for now until things have calmed down a bit.

_'After the Council has made its decision. Then I'll know what path the Force will want me to follow, whether or not he and I shall stay here on Coruscant or venture out into the galaxy again. I'll bring it up when I've decided on a course, give him some stability first.' _I think to myself, before turning towards Yoda who has also been looking at Anakin with a worryingly knowing gaze.

He doesn't say anything, but the look he sends me tells me enough: he knows.

For a moment, we're locked in a brief staring contest, before Yoda glances at his fellow Council Members.

"Much to contemplate, we all have. Dismiss this meeting for today, I propose. But before you all go, Obi-Wan, step forwards please."

With the rest of the Council distracted as the wide-eyed padawan steps forwards, I take the hidden opportunity that my brother gave me and quickly and quietly order the droids to leave the room, stepping backwards towards the entrance as I drag Anakin with me, away from the centre of the floor where a nervous Obi-Wan now stands ramrod straight.

With the spotlight now removed from me and, more importantly, Anakin for just a little while longer, I allow myself to relax, letting the Force flow into my very being, both physical and metaphysical. While I've always criticized my brother for his dependence on surrendering all his emotions and attachments to the Force, I can't argue that it feels good to let my weariness and worries smoothly flow out of me and into the vast unifying force of the universe.

I'll meditate on them later in the privacy of my room, but for now it feels good to feel less… heavy, than I did following my arguments with Yoda and my desperate attempts at convincing the High Council.

As energy courses through me like a caffeine shot, clarity returns to my thoughts and I fully focus on the nervous form of Obi-Wan, who's back is turned towards us so he fails to spot Qui-Gon and mine's knowing grins.

With the present Jedi focusing their attention on the prim and proper Padawan, the general mood lightens up considerably and I can even see some of the more laid back Masters sport small smiles of their own.

To Obi-Wan, Yoda's face is an inscrutable craggy plateau, but to me his amusement is clear to see, his fondness for his Jedi his greatest redeeming quality.

"Padawan Kenobi. Instrumental in the liberation of Naboo you have been, your Master says. Even got a medal for your efforts, I notice." Yoda dryly remarks and Obi-Wan nearly burns red as he subconsciously lets his hand rest on the front pocket of his tunic, where the golden plaque that Padme hung around his neck hangs heavy in the soft cloth.

"I merely did as was required of any Jedi, Grand Master. I tried my best to fulfil the duty of the Jedi, something that I could not have done without the aid of my Master and the aid of Master Yondu." Obi-Wan is quick to respond and admirably does so without a hitch or waver in his voice.

"Hmm. A humble one, you are. The first padawan in a thousand years to have faced a Sith in battle, without a even mark upon you. Strong in the Force you must be then. Feel it even now, I can. Much to learn still, you have: your journey is only now beginning. But, a next chapter, this will be. You are no longer a Padawan: you are now Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight of the Order." Yoda says, allowing a smile to fully show on his face.

Obi-Wan's shock is clearly felt by all Jedi present, before the young man manages to reel in his Force prescience and regain control of his emotions. He gives a deep bow and his gratefulness shines through clearly in his voice as he thanks Yoda and the rest of the Council, who all nod approvingly for his promotion.

"Make us proud, you shall. Now, free to leave you all are. Rest and meditate and think on the future that awaits us all. Yondu. Stay please." Yoda's gravelly voice rings out through the room, and as the other Jedi all rise and begin to make their way out of the room, some of them pausing to give their congratulations to a star-struck Obi-Wan, a small hand tugs on my wide sleeve.

"Master?" Anakin asks in a small voice, eyes wide, clearly uncomfortable with navigating the humongous Jedi Temple by himself.

"It's alright Anakin, I won't be long. Qui-Gon here will lead you towards your room. My own is not far away: once I'm done speaking with my brother, I'll come find you, alright?" I say gently, shooting the tall human a questioning look from the corner of my eye.

Qui-Gon readily gives me a nod and a small smile in return, before stepping closer to the young child.

"It's alright Anakin, we're amongst allies here. Come, why don't I show you to your room: perhaps some of the other younglings are still up as well, you could meet them if you want?" he says in a warm tone of voice as he lays a comforting hand on Anakin's narrow shoulder.

At the presence of a Jedi he knows and trusts as well as the prospect of making new friends, Anakin's face lights up. Shooting me one last look, which I respond to with a warm smile, the young child happily trots out of the room, Qui-Gon right on his heels. He glances back towards me, before letting his eyes slides towards the slightly stunned Obi-Wan, before looking back at me again, one eyebrow raised in question. As I give him a confirming nod, he relaxes somewhat, before lengthening his strides in order to catch up to my overly excited student.

"Anakin. Perhaps it would be wise if _I_ were walking in the front?"

"Huh? Why?"

"Well, do you actually know which way you're going right now?"

"… uhhmmm…"

"Follow me then, if you would. The Temple is a large place, and it wouldn't do to get lost on your first day here, would it?"

"Nah I guess. Sure, lead on then!"

As their voices fade from my hearing the last of the Council Members walks out of the chamber, a contemplative Obi-Wan right on their heels. I stop him in my tracks my lightly clearing my throat, followed by an overly exaggerated cough once that one fails to catch his attention. Jumping nearly a foot in the air out of surprise, a somewhat contrite looking Obi-Wan turns to look down towards me.

"Ah, apologies Master! I was… somewhat deep in thought."

"Understandable, Knight Kenobi. Congratulations on your promotion, you've more than earned it after aiding me in the battle against the Sith assassin." I reply with a forgiving smile, before continuing.

"Right now however, you should speak with Master Qui-Gon. While Knights usually stay a team with their former Master, the bond they share has fundamentally changed: while he'll still be able to teach you much, you are no longer a mere student and this is reflected in the Force. Discuss this with him, know and try to truly understand how your relationship has changed."

"Of course Master, I shall do so at once." The young Knight responds with a short bow.

"Very well. He is currently escorting my student towards the guest wing of the Temple, you will find him there." I explain, and after getting another nod from the young human, I send him on his way.

And then it's just me and Yoda left inside the room. For several, long and tense moments, neither one of us speaks up, before the silence is broken as Yoda lets out a long-suffering sigh as he gets off his chair.

I hate the damned things. Most uncomfortable thing I've ever sat on.

He turns and walks towards one of the large windows which give an excellent view of the Coruscanti skyline, a spectacular sunset bathing the room in a golden light as the sun slowly dips beneath the uncountable high-rises lined across the horizon. As much as I don't really care much for the planet-spanning city and the subsequent smog and noise that it entails, I have to admit that it's imposing to look at nonetheless.

When he remains silent I walk forwards, stepping up to him until we're side by side. As I look out over the beating heart of the Republic we've both sworn to protect, each in our own way, he slightly turns towards me his gaze tracking me up and down as he scrutinized my appearance, and I can't quite stop myself from shuffling my feet or tugging on my sleeves. While he wears the simple brown robes of the Order, I can't help but feel underdressed for some reason, or dishevelled, despite the fact that I'm wearing similar cloths as he is (the robes that got covered in Sith-blood were burnt back on Naboo).

As they always do after we've not seen each other for years, his eyes slowly track over the obvious stiches in my old and often repaired robes (a testament to my often hermit-like lifestyle), to every small scar that's visible on my body (a testament to my many battles with the Dark Side and the underbelly of the universe).

His gaze briefly pauses on the familiar ones, the long thin line that goes across my scalp, coming just short of reaching my right eyebrow, courtesy of one _very_ pissed of Mando's vibroknife. The frayed hole in the middle of the flap of my left ear, courtesy of a bolter-blast aimed at my head that I hadn't _quite_ managed to dodge.

Eventually, it lingers longer on my right hand, the smattering of blisters clearly visible even after they've already begun healing.

He gives a disapproving shake of his head, before speaking up in the language of our homeworld.

"You are far too reckless for your own good, you know?"

I don't really have an answer for that (it's not as if he's _wrong_ after all), so I settle instead of giving him a rogueish grin and a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders.

"I'd like to think I wreck plenty of stuff. You've chewed me out often enough over it after all." I cheekily respond, causing my brother to roll his eyes, before looking away from me.

Once more silence returns, though this one is more comfortable than the one from before, when we were arguing in front of the assembled Jedi High Council.

Yeah, looking back on it now, not exactly our brightest moment I think with a wince. Thinking of said Council, I think of someone who wasn't there during the meeting even though my faded memories insisted that she should've been.

"Where's Yaddle? Her seat was empty, so I presume she hasn't been replaced yet."

Mentioning the third member of our species that's currently a Jedi causes a deep frown to appear on my brother's face.

"We haven't heard from her for several weeks now. Not entirely unusual for her, I'll admit, but not even Oppo has had any contact with her whatsoever for some time now. You and me both know how she has been considering stepping down from the Council and lessening her involvement in the Order. My hope was that she had simply retreated for some private meditation of some kind. Now that I have no choice but to accept that the Sith are still present in the galaxy however…" he softly muses, and I can clearly feel his worry over our younger fellow Jedi.

"Have you checked with Kamparas?" I quickly ask, my own worry growing when he sadly shakes his head.

"The last time she was at the training centre was close to a decade ago now. We don't have much else to go on: the last I've heard of her, she was travelling across the Braxant Run."

Ice seems to grow in my gut as realization dawns on me, my expression grim.

"That would lead her-"

"-through the territory of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, yes. The Braxant Run is large, and runs through many sectors: I thought nothing of it before today." Yoda says in a low voice, before turning to face me fully with a deep frown marring his craggy face.

"We still disagree on many things, something that will undoubtedly come to a head at the next Council Meeting. And I still don't know whether I believe your claims about Hugo Damask II's true nature or not. But I _will_ concede to your proof that the Sith still exist. And if _that_ is true…" he trails off, but the implication is clear.

Even as we speak, Yaddle might be in the clutches of some of the most powerful Sith the universe has seen for the past couple of millennia.

"I've said it before Yoda: change is sweeping across the Galaxy. The Ruusan Reformation brought a status quo, but as you can see now, that was merely an illusion. The time has now come where the champions of the Dark Side have grown sufficiently in strength that they will once again try to impose their will upon the galaxy. The Republic as it stands now _cannot_ face them, and so neither can your Jedi Order. You _must_ act. I'll stay until the next meeting of the High Council, then I will be off to search for Yaddle. I'll leave Anakin in the care of the temple: Qui-Gon isn't getting any younger, and Obi-Wan is strong enough to stand on his own two feet, at least for a little while. This is where he'll be safest. And while I travel to oppose the Sith hiding in the Outer Rim, I trust you and your Jedi to do the right thing in combating the Sith hiding in the Core Worlds." I state firmly now that I know where the Force wants me to travel next.

With a plan in mind, I stalk outside of the room, leaving my brother standing at the window still overlooking the night-time skyline of Coruscant in deep contemplation. However, before the double doors fully close behind me, his voice softly floats towards me, his words crisp even as his tone is trouble.

"I hope we will. I truly hope we will."

* * *

**Fun Fact: **After watching Star Wars, James Cameron decided to quit his job as a truck driver and entered the film industry.

**AN:** Blegh, I hate this chapter. It just doesn't flow like I had imagined it to. It feels like it's all over the place and hardly coherent at all. I blame the fact my head is killing me: I haven't been able to sleep for over two days now. Anyways, let me know how I could improve this chapter! Cheers!

_As always, I want to thank all of my patrons. I cannot thank you enough for your aid, I truly appreciate every single one of you: IronmanMarkIV, Shaman95, justlovereadin, Daniel Dorfman, Luis Zepeda, DoctorTortoise, DavidJ, CJ Elsen, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, RC Oprea, Devon, Kyle Reese, Josh Tucker, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin, thanks to all of you. Make sure to contact me through my page or through PM's if you have any further questions or suggestions, Cheers!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

* * *

"Let us begin." the aged voice called out to the room.

In any other setting, amongst any other kind of people, the statement would've caused any ruckus to seize and for the people to settle down. Not here though.

There was rarely any ruckus to be had amongst Jedi Masters after all.

Well, at least when I wasn't around anyways.

Instead, the calm unworried aura from before was replaced by an equally calm attentiveness as some Masters straightened in their chairs, wise gazes honing in on my diminutive form standing in the middle of the room, rising out of their own thoughts.

"Much to discuss, we have." Yoda continued, and while to anyone else he may have seemed collected, I could still spot the tiredness in his eyes.

"Indeed. It has been two days. You have all had a chance to meditate on the return of the Sith to the Galaxy. Have thought on how their influence has spread from the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim to even here under your very noses. Now is the time: how will the Jedi respond?" I stated firmly, letting my gaze track across the seated Masters, before finally letting them rest on Yoda who meets it without issue.

Standing besides me is Qui-Gon, both as a show of support and because he was a witness to the fight of Darth Maul, should any of the Masters want to revisit that event in search of further insight into the crisis at hand.

Young Kenobi was currently showing Anakin around the Jedi Temple, since even a day or two isn't enough to take in the magnificent monument to our Order in its entirety. Knowing the young Knight, he's probably insisting on taking Anakin to the library and training grounds, instead of (as Qui-Gon had done) to all the outlooks with a view of Coruscant and hidden nooks and crannies where one might hypothetically consume their ill-gotten loot from the kitchens (which he had shown the child as well of course).

While the training grounds would no doubt hold Anakin's attention perfectly well, I was already mentally bracing myself to meet a small disaster once this meeting is _finally_ over and I have to check on our libraries.

As bright and inquisitive as he was, Anakin was still a quite… kinesthetic learner, as opposed to what Kenobi would've expected from regular Jedi younglings.

In truth, I'm rather impatient myself (a bad trait for a Jedi to have, I know, I _know_, my brother has told me as much countless times already) as my thoughts keep returning to Yaddle. There aren't many of our species, especially away from our home world and with a 400 year age difference, Yoda and I never quite could keep ourselves from viewing her as a little sister figure (in truth she was our second cousin thrice removed), despite her _incredibly _high attunement to the Force, even by our standards.

Considering what Plageuis had been up to under the tutelage of his master until I killed Tenebrous and how his skills must have continued to grow in these past thirty years…

I shudder to think what horrors Yaddle may be forced to suffer under his care.

"It is clear the Jedi must act. But, as you said, even here, the influence of the Dark Side reaches. Hidden from eyes and senses, they remain. Careful we must be, or retreat to the depths of shadow they will." Yoda slowly muses out loud, to nods of several of the Masters and I'm forced to agree.

While a lone Sith is one of the most dangerous beings in the Galaxy to face in combat on account of wielding a lightsaber and (if powerful enough) lightning in their very hands, their true danger lies in their slippery nature. They have a knack for hiding in plain sight and striking at the most opportune moment, dealing massive amounts of (often irreversible) damage before retreating again, lying in wait for the next chance to strike.

Too often in my younger years would I barrel towards a hidden lair of a Sith or their apprentice or lackeys secure in my otherworldly knowledge, fight my way through trap after trap, only to find a hidden throne room and, if the Sith had had enough time and was vindictive enough (practically a given since this were _Sith _we're talking about here) a single datapad with a scathing holomessage to mock my efforts.

Over time I had learned that in order to truly get at them successfully, I had to adopt their own methods to use against them. Due to my species and fame it was harder for me to move out in the open unseen as they could but as a known wandering hermit following the will of the Force, disguising my motives was laughably easy.

All I had to do once on the same planet as the Sith I was hunting was wander around seemingly aimlessly and when questioned, spout off how the Force had drawn me here because it told me there was an urgency here or a planet over that needed to be dealt with. And they never could resist to come close to me in their chosen disguise, revelling in their superiority as they stared me straight in the face without me knowing, throwing around words with double meanings and hidden layers only they could understand to their immense glee.

And then I would follow them to their hidden lair and stab them in the back and they all died with the same shocked look on their face as they realized that I had been merely playing along all the way.

This mostly worked on overconfident and overeager apprentices and whatever lackeys and middlemen the Sith chose to use, as some true Masters of the Dark Side _were _in fact powerful enough to look me straight in the eyes and get away with it, as Palpatine had proven with how he had managed to learn under Plageuis and teach Maul even with me trying to keep an eye on him.

Sadly, they had quickly wizened up after the first half dozen prospective Sith and puppet crime lords that had found their end at my hands, with the Line of Bane nearly broken several times. The arrogance of the Dark Side still meant that they couldn't resist approaching me and bragging about their existence (with varying degrees of subtlety), but now they made sure to layer extra fortifications in their hideouts and Master and Apprentice were _very_ rarely on the same planet, usually only during the initial stages of training as the Masters showed the nature of the Dark Side and how to access it and then they unleashed their eager apprentices on the innocents of the Galaxy.

That had actually been the main reason why I had been so brazen in my attack on Tenebrous so many years ago. I had been on his trail for several months and had even been forced to share a dinner table with the Bith as he invited me to some grand gala or other where he was to receive a prize for one of his latest starship designs. I hadn't bothered to pay much attention to the ceremony, focused as I was on not letting on that I knew his true identity, no matter how expertly he hid his vile nature. I almost slipped up however when I spotted, sitting at a table near the front of the stage and dressed in robes that violently screamed "WEALTH!", a certain Muun banker.

To this day I don't know what had caused the apprentice to seek out the Master in person. Maybe Tenebrous had summoned him instead, in the hopes that the two of them were powerful enough to defeat me? Tenebrous had been a viciously powerful lightsaber duelist and while that never was Plageuis' area of expertise, the Muun was undeniably skilled in the vast and varied powers of the Dark Side. In either case, it didn't matter as I recognized the rare opportunity that had presented itself and the following evening, as most of his workers had been sent home, I stormed his offices with lightsabers at the ready, tossing those few who were working late out of our way as quickly as I could.

After my trial for killing Rugess Nome had concluded I had found out that, though I had been successful in killing the Sith Lord without endangering any of his innocent employees, my frantic Force pulls had caused a few dislocated arms and other assorted limbs which in turn had let to _another_ lawsuit. Before I found myself needing urgent meditation in order to deal with the waves of indignation welling up inside me, I noticed that the damages had quickly and quietly been payed off… from my brother's personal accounts.

He never mentioned it, even as he chewed me out in front of the Council, the Senate and my tribunal, and so I never brought it up, but I knew that he knew I knew. And so I was willing to let him speak then and it is why I'm willing to hear him out even now, when I'd much rather be in the dazzling blue glow of hyperspace, looking for our little pseudo-sister.

No matter his actions, no matter our disagreements and grievances… Yoda had my back.

_Always_.

"We must act carefully. Come on too strong, we might spook them back into hiding. And we can't act on too large a scale either. Taking Master Yondu's past interactions with them into account, it is highly likely that they are acting through third parties, who might not even be aware of the fact that they are being used. In the Outer Rim it's probably crime lords or their like in which case unknown sources of information or funding that are supporting their operations could be traced back towards the Sith, but they're likely to have hidden their tracks well. Here in the Core Worlds that might be more difficult. They'll undoubtedly use a mix of both legitimate corporations and underworld contacts to advance their agenda here. We might have more leeway in dealing with the underworld aspect, disguise our actions as routine Jedi operations, mocking up the necessary paperwork shouldn't prove too difficult. But for the legitimate angle, we would need support from the Senate, and if Yondu is correct…" Windu quickly explained, clearly having put his military mind to the task of dealing with the Sith's support structure, which was arguably as important as dealing with the Sith themselves.

Adi Gallia was on much the same line of thinking as Windu, seeing the issue with that as well as the rest of us.

"We can't approach the Senate without having the Sith listening in on our dealings. They have managed to remain hidden for almost a millenia, leaving only middlemen and corpses in their wake whenever Master Yondu managed to track down their activities. He has uncovered their operations and identities multiple times over these last centuries but they keep managing to relocate, assume new identities and find new apprentices, before their Force sensitive nature makes them known to our own seekers. Such mobility through the Galaxy can only be achieved with contacts in the highest level of government and after all these years it's impossible to tell who is on the take and who isn't, not to mention those who _are_ but don't even know it."

"And investigate the Senate itself, out of the question. Not the task of the Jedi, it is." Yoda speaks up firmly, shooting me a warning look, to which I can't do much but shrug my shoulders.

"Don't worry. I get within a hundred meters of the Senate building and the Sith will hike up their robes and run for Wild Space. They know there's no other reason for me to approach that damned thing if it weren't for taking them down so me approaching a Senator or just about any government official of high enough standing is out of the question." I reply to his unspoken accusation and I see Qui-Gon trying to suppress a smile at the mental image from the corner of my eyes.

"The Senate may still be approached. Much like how we plan to deal with the Underworld issue, we may seek contact with Senators under a different guise. There are plenty of issues in the Galaxy that the Jedi would be concerned with: we may seek the aid of politicians in order to see government reforms in order to address these issues. This would have the benefit of aiding the Galaxy at large as well, since the Sith can't use their agents to push back on these reforms without blowing their cover." Shaak Ti then responds and I see many of the other Masters nodding, pleased at the idea that their lies and covert stuff will aid the Greater Good in the process, which assuages the slight guilt they're feeling about all this talk of hiding their actions like they're some kind of spy or something.

Classic Jedi thinking and showing good moral fibre on Ti's part, but I can't help but feel that they're being overly optimistic or perhaps merely naive. They are projecting their own sense of good and willingness to help on politicians, in an era where an order of Darkness had infiltrated the governing body.

I think they'll find that it isn't as difficult for a politician to oppose reforms for the betterment of all as they seem to think that it is.

Still, the tactic is sound in theory at least. The Jedi don't have the authority to investigate Senators, we aren't some sort of secret police after all. But we can get close to them under the pretense of wanting to help the Galaxy and that should make some of the Sith's agents start sweating at least.

I doubt we'll manage to make the like of Palpatine falter in their stride but it should prove to be a wrench in their plans at the very least.

"If I may make another suggestion, members of the Council?" Qui-Gon calmly speaks up, but the strength in his voice immediately grabs the attention of all present.

While a Master, he doesn't have a seat on the Council and him taking control of the discussion like this is somewhat of a breach of protocol. But then again, he was a well-respected member of the Order and everyone here knew that the only reason he didn't have a Seat was due to internal politics (namely his connection to Syfo-Dias, Dooku and me) and not because of a lack of strength or wisdom.

So when he spoke, he immediately gained the attention of the Masters present and he continued undaunted.

"We are already planning on different approaches that will ultimately lead to the betterment of everyone in _all_ of the Galaxy. Pursuing the underbelly of both the Outer Rim _and_ the Core Worlds, while seeking Republic-wide reforms through the Senate. But in order to unify our efforts, I feel that _one _additional approach is missing. Seeking an audience with the authorities here as Master Shaak Ti proposed will undoubtedly lead towards much good being done, but I cannot help but feel that the consequences of such acts are less far reaching as the Council believes. Especially in those areas where the influence of both the Republic and the Jedi Order falter."

"Say what you mean, Master Jin." Windu quickly cut in, and I noticed how Qui-Gon drew himself up even taller.

"In my latest report, I mentioned that I was forced to make a stop on Tatooine, where I encountered Master Yondu. While there, I was made keenly aware of the fact that slavery, while outlawed in the Republic, still has a very large presence outside of its borders. I would propose that we send Jedi out beyond the borders of the Republic and use Shaak Ti's suggestion of connecting with governing bodies in the Outer Rim to pursue legal reformations there as well."

"Tatooine is under control of the Hutts, as is much of the Outer Rim. You know as well as I that no good will come from sitting down at the negotiating table with them. Even on those planets which supposedly have their own separate governing bodies, the influence of the Hutts is clearly felt in every act and every speech. If you are suggesting going to war with the Hutts instead…" Saesee Tiin spoke up, hands clasped underneath his chin, heavy brow furrowed as he stared Qui-Gon down.

Undeterred, the tall Human shook his head.

"I know this, Master Tiin and I would never suggest going to war with the Hutts, especially now that the resurgence of the Sith has _finally_ been confirmed. And I agree that it might be a foolish hope that we could convince local authorities to take a stand and do what is right with the shadow of their backers still looming large over them. But I think the Council is forgetting that there are _other_ organizations in the Outer Rim who we could approach and who we can count on to serve the Light."

"You speak of contacting the other Orders." Windu immediately catches on and my eyes remain fixed on Yoda as he takes in Qui-Gon's suggestion.

He remains calm. _Too_ calm. He doesn't show _any_ reaction at all, which tells me that he is actively suppressing them which in turn tells me all I need to know and while I'm disappointed I'm not surprised.

Yoda doesn't like the idea.

"You would have us work with heretics?" Oppo Rancicis asks without malice or condemnation, but in genuine surprise.

Qui-Gon slightly bows his head in acknowledgement.

"Their teachings may differ from our own. They might not follow the same version of the Code that we do. But in the end, we _all_ serve the Force. We _all_ oppose the Sith."

"We cannot be sure. Some of them have far closer dealings with the Dark Side than is wise. They may be actually supporting the Sith to some extent, either silently or actively. Many of them hold no love for the Republic either, after all. Or for us, for that matter. Contacting them might lead us directly into the waiting grasp of the Sith." Windu immediately responds, but Qui-Gon is undaunted.

"We cannot be sure." he simply throws back in the other Masters' face.

In the stunned silence that follows, he quickly continues.

"It has been centuries, if not _millennia_ that our Order has had close contact with any of the other splinter cells. All we base our opinions on is what our Masters have passed down onto us from what they've heard from their Masters and the occasional reports on the Holonet. But they are out there, as we speak, and they seek to help people, to serve the Force, _just_ as we do. Is it _really_ the Jedi way to ignore them, to perhaps even oppose them, while we strive to serve the Greater Good, just because they do not think like we do? Is that _truly_ what it means to be Jedi, to dismiss another not on what we know or feel, but merely on what we suspect and have heard of others?"

Qui-Gon never once raised his voice, but in the dead silence that follows his tirade, he might as well have been roaring at the top of his lungs. I expertly hide my grin at the thought of how Kenobi might have acted should he have seen his Master challenge the Council so brazenly (he'd probably faint on the spot) and instead draw myself up taller (as much of a futile gesture it may be) when several Masters slide their gazes from the tall Human down to me, showcasing my silent support for his argument.

The silence remains and grows heavier and even though it is unspoken, we all wait for _one_ Jedi's reaction: Yoda has yet to respond. Everyone knows that, the more I drifted away from the Order's strict teachings, the closer Yoda held onto them and just like Oppo he considers the other Orders as heretical to the _true_ Jedi way. He doesn't hate them, but he does think lesser of them and wouldn't trust them as far as he can throw them (without the assistance of the Force that is).

However, now that Qui-Gon has thrown that right back into his face…

Eventually, Yoda lets out a deep sigh as he slumps in his seat, one clawed hand coming up to softly massage his wrinkled brow. Opening one eye to a narrowed split, he grumbles.

"Truly the student of your Master you are, young Master Jin."

Amusement wells up in me and several of the other Masters as both Qui-Gon and I shrug our shoulders in perfect synchronization, recognizing that the accusation is partly leveled at the both of us.

Letting out a short snort, Yoda opens his eyes and sits up fully.

"Very well. Move forwards, the Jedi shall. The Sith dwell in Darkness and Shadow and it is there we must venture as well. The criminal underworld we must investigate, both here _and_ in the Outer Rim. Disguise our efforts, we shall. Approach the Senate as best we can, seek to investigate without alerting their Masters we must try. And… contact the other Orders in the Outer Rim we shall. Careful the Sith are. Devious. Many enemies will they place between them and us. To seek the help of those already facing those enemies, seems only logical. Diplomats must be sent, to foster new relations and heal old wounds. They will not trust us." Yoda determines and this time I cannot quite hide my response as I slump in relief.

The meeting goes on a little bit longer, mostly in order to determine which Jedi shall be in charge of what mission and which persons or planets could be of interest to start our hunt of the Sith and then it's finally over. Yoda gives me a long considering glance and briefly I wonder if he wants me to stay behind again.

Eventually he just gives me a slow, deep nod before turning away from me and through the Force, his unspoken words are clear as day to me.

'_Go. Bring our sister home.'_

Nodding in response, I square my shoulders and ready my resolve, turning on my heel as my robes swirl around me as I make to set forth into the grand unknown of space…

Only to instead be met with the irate face of our resident implacable woman and Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu.

"Uhm… yes? Can I help you?" I ask hesitantly.

Despite the fact that she's barely a youngling by the counting of my species, the aura of righteous indignation swirling around her and blazing towards me from two narrowed eyes makes me feel like I'm a padawan all over again.

She swings her arms forwards and I see a struggling Obi-Wan and Anakin in her grasp, an ear pinched firmly between gnarled fingers as she shoves them in my face.

Both are positively _covered_ in dust.

_Antique_ looking dust and I feel a block of ice settle in my gut.

"Care to explain why I caught these two roughhousing in the shattered remains of the priceless and _only _carving of Vodo-Siosk Baas, _Master_ Yondu?" the Librarian asks, in the Jedi-version of seething (which basically translates to the patented "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed" parent-look cranked up to a hundred).

"He started it!" Obi-Wan and Anakin manage to yell out simultaneously, which is immediately followed by a chorus of "ow! ow! ow! owowow!" as Jocasta further tightens her infamous iron grip.

And to all of this chaos, my centuries old, Jedi Master brain can only come up with a singular response, well-tested and refined, perfect for all situations.

"... Shit."

* * *

**Fun Fact: **The word "Ewok" is never uttered by a character in the original trilogy. Although, the species is identified in the script and closing credits.

**AN:** Originally I wanted to include Yondu leaving and eventually finding Yaddle, but my muse is running off into the wilderness and considering there's a storm outside, I'm letting her go for now (the bear traps should get her anyways so I should be able to retrieve her shortly). So I'm sorry but instead all you're getting is this boring little snippet. I do have some pretty epic confrontations planned between Yondu and Plagueis and an older Anakin and Palpatine, though I'm having some trouble figuring out how to get from here to there. I'm not that well-versed in what happens between Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones or the Cone Wars. So if any of you got any suggestion on what could be fun to explore in those time periods, feel free to let me know! Sorry again for the chapter.

_Thanking my Patrons time! Justlovereadin, McPuffin Muffin, Daniel Dorfman, Luis Zepeda, DoctorTortoise, DavidJ, Carn Krauss, ReaperScythe, RC Oprea, Kyle Reese, Christopher Harris, Josh Tucker, RLStrained, Vu, Roman Krupkin!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

* * *

"But I already said I was sorry!"

"And I heard you the first time just as clearly Anakin. Which still doesn't change the fact that the irreplaceable artefact of Master Vodo Siosk-Baas remains in ruins. As such, _you_ shall remain scrubbing the floor. Put that vibro-mop to some good use, there's a good Padawan."

"But I'm already done!" the child whined petulantly up at my position as I sat cross-legged on one of the large library tables.

I glanced over the brim of my flimsiplast sheet detailing the schematics of the ship the Order would loan me and a brief summary of my space route, pinning Anakin with a dry look and a raised eyebrow.

"You missed a spot." I remark, indicating the dusty shelves lining the wall behind him and as he turns and cranes his neck to look up at all of them I can see him slump in suitably dramatic despair.

"C'mon, that's not fair! Those were dusty already!"

"If you truly believe that the library was in such disarray before your little… tumble, then by all means, raise your complains with Master Jocasta. I am sure she would humbly appreciate your wizened feedback."

"... Oh wow, would you look at that! It seems I missed a spot!"

I suppress my chuckles with great effort as I hide my grin behind my flimsiplast sheet as the sound of the vibro-mop starts back up again and silence returns to our little corner of the mostly empty reading hall.

My eyes scan over the Aurabesh on the page in front of me but I no longer truly take in the words, having memorized them by heart by now. While I'm raring to go, the ship itself needs to be refuelled first and undergo a standard list of safety and precaution checks while flight and departure authorization are being arranged with the Coruscanti Spaceport, in order to make sure I don't accidentally hit someone or get misidentified as a hostile vessel by the small defensive fleet in orbit once I take off.

All this sitting around shouldn't be an issue for a venerable old Jedi Master like myself, but then again I would hardly call myself "venerable" (now old, _that_, unfortunately, I would have to concede). As such, I couldn't quite keep worry from gnawing at me. I drew on the Force to soothe my fraying nerves and troubled state of mind, but the clarity it brought with it only enhanced my thoughts on what Yaddle might be enduring at that very moment.

Thankfully, after what seemed like an eternity of me trying to meditate and Anakin quitely (and not-so quietly) grumbling about his terrible lot in life, a protocol droid approached me, the rhythmic clank of its feet against the marble-like flooring raising me from my circular thoughts.

Maybe it's because we didn't have them back in my previous life (or at least not ones that were this level of advanced), but I've found that, even after more than 800 years, I'm still not entirely used to droids and can pick one out from a crowd just by the sound and rhythm of their feet.

Too… precise and regular, for an organic.

"Master Yoda? Your shuttle has been prepared and approved for take-off. If you would follow me to the hangars please?" it's modulated voice comes out, almost aggressively polite, as is common for most (Republic) protocol droids.

"Yes yes, lead the way and all that. Anakin?"

"Yes Master?" the child asks hopefully as I climb down from the table.

"Once you're done here, report to Master Jocasta and ask if she needs any help with other chores that might need doing. _If_ she allows to let you go instead, then seek out Master Jin, he'll know how to keep you on your toes until I get back." I say, before my feet finally touch the ground and I turn, facing towards a dejected looking Anakin.

Stepping closer to him, I pat him comfortingly on the arm.

"Cheer up, Anakin. I know that Master Jocasta seemed really scary and angry, but she can be quite reasonable, I think you'll find. She's quite nice to those who don't wreck her sanctum. And you already know young Qui-Gon: I rather thought you two had hit it off quite well to be honest. Certainly better than you did with Obi-Wan!" I say with a throaty chuckle, which dies off when Anakin just shrugs in response, not really looking back towards me.

Letting out a sigh, I squeeze his hand, finally establishing eye contact with the child.

"I know that you don't like this, Anakin. But this is for your safety. Where I'm going… you could get _very_ hurt and I would _never _want that to happen to you. Not to mention that I'm far too scared of your mother's wrath to ever even consider putting you in harms way." I finish with a sly grin and _that_ finally nets me a reaction as Anakin can't quite contain a small snort of his own.

No doubt the legendary tirade his mother had given me over the holo after she learned we had been to Naboo sprang to mind (it could've been my imagination, but I'm fairly certain my ears were ringing by the end of it).

"Anakin. Qui-Gon has my full confidence, and while the Jedi and I don't always see eye to eye, I can assure you that here you will be safe and well-cared for. Try to make the most of the situation and I promise that I'll come back as soon as I can, alright?"

Anakin remains silent for a few moments, before giving me a small nod and a hesitant smile, one which I return in full, before turning towards the droid which hasn't even moved so much as an inch during our entire conversation, waiting with the patience only a droid (and a _very_ select group of sapient species) can display.

"Lead on."

And with that I stalk out the library, feeling Anakin's eyes on my back even as my thoughts return towards Yaddle and the dangers my old enemy may have laying in wait for me.

* * *

The walk from the Library to the Hangars still takes nearly fifteen minutes, despite the use of impressively fast repulsor lifts, as the Temple is simply _that_ large. Stepping out of the last of the repulsorlifts I step foot straight into the Jedi Order's Hanger and it's an impressive sight to be sure. A huge cavernous space several stories high, with one entire wall instead replaced by a thin ray shield, allowing for ships to pass through while keeping dust and the like out and incidentally giving a humbling view of the horizon spanning city spires that form this ecumenopolis the Order calls home.

From one end of the Hangar to the other in a formation that with some optimism and a _lot_ of goodwill can be described as "organized chaos" starships of every model, make and era are lined up, with cables and fuel hoses thicker than my body strewn haphazardly between them as astromechs and engineers hurry back and forth in an seemingly incomprehensible swarm.

Each vehicle is unique, with a clear lived in history, as the Jedi don't exactly possess a fleet, but receive _many_ donations from various corners of the Republic (usually politicians looking to curry favors but also the occasional wealthy merchant grateful for provided protection of his trade routes for instance). This in addition to whatever funds funnel into the Order's coffers through various Jedi-owned or supported organizations, like the selling of crops from our agri-worlds, though a lot of what is grown or produced in such businesses is also set aside for charity work

Still, despite their vast and varied origins, many of the vehicles seem to lean towards a certain design philosophy: medium to small size with decent engines and nimble handling respective for their weight class. The type of ship that is large enough to carry multiple passengers in relative comfort while remaining nimble enough to be a force to be reckoned with in a dogfight in the hands of a suitably skilled pilot.

The perfect type of ship for a Jedi venturing forth in parts less savory than diplomats' quarters and royal palaces.

Despite the chaos and noise surrounding us, the droid doesn't falter in its steps (because of course it doesn't) and leads me straight towards the back of the hangar bay. As we step around a massive generator block, I'm surprised to see someone already waiting nearby one of the closer ships, his back turned towards us.

"Coming to see me off? You shouldn't have."

"A time for levity, this is not. If your accusation are true, then many horrors await you. Many more, may have befallen Yaddle already."

With those words, my brother looks back over his shoulder at me, before turning fully and dismissing the droid with a nod of his head. As it bows to both of us (an _absolutely_ perfect 45 degree angle) and departs, Yoda waits for a few moments for it to leave outside of earshot, before continuing in our native language.

"So yes, I came to see you off. I wanted to impress the importance of the mission on you, _and _remind you of your main objective here. Your number one priority, superseding _everything_ else, is to bring Yaddle back home to us. No matter what else, or _who_ else you may find, do _not_ let yourself be tricked or distracted. Remember, we believe you now about the resurgence of the Sith: do not risk her life, or yours, to bring back further proof. The Sith _will _be exposed, in time, but not at the cost of the lives of our own."

I nod in response, my expression matching his grave one, before it's broken up by a roguish grin.

"You know, if you wanted to tell me that you cared, you could've just _said_ so. You don't have to turn _everything_ into a speech you know?"

Despite his status as the wizened, 900-something Grandmaster of the Jedi, my brother can't keep himself from rolling his eyes as he turns away from me and back towards the ship.

"I see no need to repeat that which is already well-known. Besides, I do not turn _everything_ into a speech." he replies dryly, which only causes my grin to widen further.

"Really? 'Cause I remember this one time when we were young and we were eating out at a restaurant and when I wanted to order the Kubindian Royal Jelly Rolls a certain _someone_ tried to give me dietary advice and explain to me why I shouldn't as it might make me fat."

"We were barely into our hundreds, and I would _hardly_ call that a speech-"

"They ended up throwing us out because we had ended up staying there past closing time, little brother."

"... hmpf. You _were_ getting fat. Besides, your dietary habits, atrocious as they may be, are not why we're here. This ship has been made available for you for the duration of your mission and will be kept on stand-by afterwards as we attempt to root out the Sith. I suspect you will try to be at the frontlines as much as possible, and you'll need a ship at the ready in order to do so."

Deciding to stop teasing my brother, I follow his outstretched hand to the ship in front of us. I can spot that it's a freighter straight away, one of medium size, about 40 meters long and 20 meters tall, but if I hadn't been reading and rereading its specs for the past half hour I definitely would have struggled to identify the actual make of it.

After all, you hardly saw one of these around these days.

"A _Barloz_ class huh? This thing is practically an antique, are you telling me _this_ is the best the Jedi Order can spare? It predates the YT-series and even those are getting old-fashioned by now!"

"The best? No. The earliest available? Yes. Additionally, while it has indeed been long since replaced by newer, more modern designs, this original build has served many captains perfectly well. It should prove very useful for your current mission: it might not be the most maneuverable, but her thick plating means she can take a hit and we've just completed updating her engines and Drive System, so you should be able to get in, retrieve Yaddle and get out of there immediately, even under the heaviest of suppressive fire. A feat even the newest of ships would struggle with." Yoda quickly responds, clearly having put much thought into this before assigning the ship to me.

He glances back at me over his shoulder.

"Trust me in this brother. She will serve you well. I know it."

Realizing that he was drawing on _something _the Force has shown him, I back down. Honestly, I shouldn't be surprised: listen long enough to the Force and certain preferences for themes and tropes become apparent as it weaves its inscrutable tapestry of destiny.

'_And for some Force-damned reason, it always seems to involve putting the hero in a piece of junk because it has a 'heart'. What's wrong with you!? Why can't you give me a nice luxury ship with state of the art shield deflectors and hyperspace engines, huh?! Maybe an air diffuser with Alderanian Nectar as a cherry on top? Is that __**really**_ _too much to ask?!'_

Ever had the mystical manifestation of life energy that binds all things in the universe together pull its metaphorical nose up at you?

It's a _weird _feeling, trust me.

"If you are _quite_ done cussing out the Force itself, brother?" Yoda asks with a slight hint of disapprovement, having absolutely no trouble reading the expressions on my face or the small turbulences in the Force.

He never did improve of the informal (and sometimes bickering) relationship I had to the Force, being far more rigid and old-fashioned himself.

Seeing my dejected nod, he gives a firm one in return, before walking past me. As he steps closer, he clasps my shoulder, and the earlier levity is gone and replaced by a complete seriousness, which cause me to subconsciously stand up taller as Yoda fixes me with a hard look.

"Bring her home, Yondu."

"I will." I immediately respond.

For a moment, we match gazes, allowing the Force to convey what words cannot express, and then the intense pressure is gone and he simply gives a nod and starts shuffling away, towards the turbolifts.

I look on as he goes, the chaos of the hangar smoothly parting in front of him and welling up again in his wake, without any of the organics and droids seemingly even noticing, merely smoothly and fluidly changing course and walking around him as he ventures forth, barely even sparing the aged Jedi a second glance.

Shaking my head, I turn back towards the sturdy looking and refurbished _Barloz_, squaring my shoulders as I start walking up the ramp.

"Alright then old girl. Let's see if you've still got it."

* * *

Nothing can quite prepare you for entering hyperspace. You can get _used_ to it, certainly, but it always takes you by surprise. There's _always_ this slight, split-second sense of disorientation, or even weightlessness, as something imperceptible just… _shifts_, somehow.

I have vague memories of seeing it often enough on tv's and in games, the pin pricks of stars turning into streaks of light and dazzling blue, but they never convey that slight shudder that goes through the entirety of the ship, even if it has state of the art inertia-dampeners, or the way that the air tastes and smells just _slightly_ off, despite the fact that it's the same recycled air that you've been breathing ever since you sealed the doors.

But sapients can get used to just about everything and this was no different. Even if you couldn't stop yourself from noticing it, you quickly adapted and put it out of your mind, the same way people on ships (actual water-based ships, that is) eventually don't even notice the swaying of the deck under their feet anymore.

So that's why, after getting the all clear back from Coruscant and blasting out of real-space and onto the Braxant Run, I got up out of the captain's chair and cracked my neck as I breathed deeply a couple of times, centering myself in the here and now.

Checking over the nav computer just to be on the safe side, I confirmed that the auto pilot had everything well in hand for now, leaving me with the opportunity to explore my new ship.

As a legendary wanderer of the Galaxy I have been aboard a vast variety of different vessels, and many weren't half as well-taken care of (or _cleaned_ for that matter) as this one was. Then again, many of those ships hadn't been mine to begin with, taken off the hands of criminals who were either dumb enough (or simply _unlucky _enough) to cross paths with me, to their detriment.

It isn't stealing if it's from criminals. It's… uhm, requisitioning. For the Greater Good and all that.

Still, the _Berloz_ freighter was generally seen as the ship that carried much of the innovations that had made the later YT-series so popular with traders and smugglers alike, and in its heyday it was cherished for much the same reason, offering a large range of customizations and secret hidey-holes.

Even if it had been donated to the Jedi Order and been cleaned out from top to bottom by a legion of overzealous droids, chances were that if you looked hard enough, there was still some hidden compartment somewhere concealing _something_, I was sure of it.

Especially given that the Force had saddled me with it, and that this type of "old gal" ships were its favorite.

All I had to do was start looking, and with everything essential already set to automatic, that's just what I did.

Leaving the cockpit, I entered a rectangular hallway, with the galley to my left and the 'fresher to my right and further down the four guest cabins (two per side), followed by the captain's quarters on the right and the first mate's on the left, all clustered around a central common room about 12 by 6 meters large.

I first went to scour all of the bedrooms, but while I did find several removable panels (most of them under the beds, a classic, if novice, move), I didn't stumble across any "loot". The same went for the common room: while I did find that one of the cabinets had a double back wall, all I found there was dust and some depleted tibanna gas canisters, leaked empty over the years.

Disgruntled, but not discouraged, I made my way further down the length of the ship towards the back end (the aft, perhaps? I never bothered learning all the proper naval terms for ships as I usually ended up crashing them only a few weeks after they had found themselves in my possession).

Exiting the corridor into the wide storage area dividing the residential area from the cargo bay, I began my search with renewed vigor, but the earlier trend continued as all my sleuthing only turned up some dirty magazines roughly thirty years or so old.

Not particularly of any use, not only due to my age, species and profession as a Jedi, but also because it seemed to be targeted towards Vuvrians, which weren't exactly the lookers of the galaxy.

Quite the opposite, actually, though I'd never say it to their face.

Never, _ever_, try to hold a staring contest with a Vuvrians. Not only will you lose _horribly_, you will feel severely creeped out during the entirety of it, and if you're a halfway decent person, you'll be feeling bad about _that_ for a couple days as well on top of that.

Back to my little treasure hunting however, it seems I should give the cleaner droids of the Jedi Temple more credit as they had done an admirable job cleaning out the ships' many cubby holes, but still I pressed on, entering into the enormous cargo bay, my Force sense tingling with anticipation.

I was close to discovering _something_ important, I could feel it.

The cargo bay itself was mostly empty, save for a few large containers filled with some bare essentials, such as rations, additional oxygen tanks and even a crate containing a couple of blaster rifles and ammo packs. As such, it didn't take me long to go over the majority of the hold with everything cleaned out and in clear view, and the same had probably been true for the droids as well as this time even the secret hidey holes had been thoroughly scrubbed.

I glanced around the hold in slight confusion, a hand coming up to lightly trace the long scar left by a Mandalorian's vibroknife some 300 years ago, somewhat of a nervous tick of mine when I was deep in thought.

I was _certain_ that what I sought should be in the cargo hold: the Force basically just outright said so to my face.

But then why couldn't I find anything?

Stumped by this apparent dilemma, I let my back fall against the elevator that sat in the middle of the bay which led to the upper ramps (which I had also checked), sliding down against it until my butt hit the floor.

I remained like that, in silence, as I thought on the matter, opening myself up to the Force in the hopes that it would provide further guidance. However, after several minutes of this, a sound caught my attention.

It was a slight scraping sound, soft but intentionally so, as if something (or perhaps more likely, some_one_) was trying to muffle it and it came from the rafter directly above me. I completely stilled my movements, even holding my breath, my eyes fixated on the metal grating over my head.

Focused as I was, I could hear the careful footfalls of someone trying to sneak about as they moved unseen above me, the only indicator of their presence their shallow breaths. I had drawn my Force presence tight to myself, not wanting to risk revealing myself as my unseen stowaway ventured from their hiding place.

My immediate thought was that it was an agent of the Sith, hidden away on the ship and lying in wait, hoping to strike me down before my hunt of the Dark Side users had even truly begun. There were some issues with the theory (such as how they knew they had to stowaway on this particular ship and how they had evaded _everyone's_ notice at the Temple, including an inspection from my brother himself), but the skills displayed by Maul and Palpatine meant that I couldn't dismiss it out of hand.

So, as the elevator made its way down towards the ground floor, I slowly worked myself back up on my feet, muscles tensed and coiled, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. I was on the left side of the elevator, meaning I was hidden from whoever would be stepping off in 3… 2… 1…

'_NOW!'_

I sprung into action, arms spread wide as I pushed off the floor using the Force, appearing as a spreading bullet intending to catch my opponent in either the lower back or the hollow of the knees, thus bringing them to the ground and eliminating their (likely) greater reach advantage, while allowing me to bring the full weight of the Force to bear.

However, mid-flight I realized what exactly the "loot" was that the Force wanted me to find, as a startled Anakin turned around with wide eyes and gaping mouth out of sheer shock as I came barreling straight towards him.

In mid-air and with such little distance between us, there isn't much I can do to change directions at this point, so all I am capable of at this point is desperately try to slow myself down so I don't accidentally squish the Chosen One against the far wall.

Bad for the future of the galaxy, that.

So, instead of a deadly missile taking down a dangerous adversary, what actually happens is an old Jedi Master and his stowaway Padawan crashing into each other like run away speeders, collapsing with an almighty 'oof!' and rolling over the cargo bay floor, coming to a stop with painful groans.

While lessened, the impact (combined with the sheer surprise) is still sufficient to disorient the both of us, and it takes a few moments for us to catch our breaths and work ourselves into a seating position.

As we finally manage that monumental feat, we simultaneously look at each other, and silence returns to the hold.

"... surprise?" Anakin tries, giving me a wobbly grin, and all I can bring up as a feasible response is to fall back to the floor with a groan and throw an arm over my eyes.

* * *

Most likely fearing punishment of some kind, Anakin had quietly sat as I tried (and eventually succeeded) to gather myself, standing up from the floor and leading the boy towards the front of the ship.

Ordering him to take a seat in the lounging area, I went to the small kitchenette in order to make myself some calming tea as I tried to think of how I was going to handle this. Preparing the soothing drink didn't take much time and before long I was seated opposite the young boy, warm mug held between my hands as I looked at him.

Anakin didn't look anywhere but at the tip of his shoes, his entire posture defensive as he hung his head, the very picture of misery.

Sensing that this was part of a more serious underlying matter, I realized that I needed to break through this defensive wall he had thrown up and _truly_ connect with the child in order to fix whatever was wrong. However, when I got off my chair so as to approach him, my unease grew as I saw that he hadn't even so much as glanced in my direction, which was unusual for the alert and hyperactive child as he normally couldn't stop himself from immediately reacting to his surroundings even if he tried.

"Anakin? What is the matter my boy?" I ask in a soft voice, and seeing him hunch his shoulders immediately fans my worry and causes my heart to ache.

It's like watching a kicked puppy lick its wounds or something.

When he doesn't respond and still won't look in my direction, I step closer, reaching slightly up (by the Force, why do humans grow up to be so tall so fast!) to clasp his shoulder, pitching my voice to be as warm and comforting as I can make it as I push out my Force presence and through it my worry and care for him as well.

"Anakin. Please, talk to me. What is it?"

For several long moments, he remains silent and I can see that his eyes become teary, though he stubbornly refuses to cry as he clenches his jaw. Allowing him to find his centre, I patiently wait, though I do not draw away, and eventually the child speaks up in a small, fragile voice.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Anakin, I know that Master Jocasta looked scary when she got worked up like that, but please don't think that she hates you-"

"No, not the statue thing. I meant… with you. Was there a test or something? Did I fail? Wasn't I strong enough, or smart enough?"

My eyes widen in surprise and my other hand comes up to gently force Anakin's chin so that he is finally looking at me, allowing him to see my bewilderment.

"A test? Whatever do you mean? What's this all about?"

He briefly hesitates, but my near presence, both physical and in the Force give him the confidence to continue.

"When we first got to the Temple… After Master Jin was done showing me around he showed me to where the other younglings and Padawans live. Said I should go and try to make friends. I did. Most of 'em were nice, I guess. It's just…"

He trails off, so in order to keep him talking, to keep any kind of conversation going, I try to fill in the gaps, which isn't that hard to do.

"It's something they said, isn't it? Someone said _something_, which has caused you to doubt yourself? To doubt me? And when I revealed that I would leave, you couldn't help but think that maybe they were right all along?" I quickly guess, seeing him give a hesitant nod.

Somewhat encouraged, he elaborates, his voice regaining a bit of its usual strength.

"They said… They said that I was supposed to be the Chosen One or something? So I'm supposed to be like, someone super important or something, they didn't really explain it. I don't think they knew, but they acted like they did. But, so I'm this Chosen One guy and, uhh, that's why you picked me up, and why Master Jin was showing me around an' stuff, 'cause normally I should be too old to be picked up as a Padawan or something. But then they started to ask if maybe I _wasn't_, or if I was sick or perhaps broken or something, and that's why you would leave me there? They said… they said that you were probably gonna go look for a better apprentice. Go and try to find the _real_ Chosen One. 'S what they said, at least." He trails off in a soft mumble.

"Oh, Anakin." I softly exclaim in a sad tone.

"I'm plenty strong though! I'll show you! I know you said it's gonna be dangerous, but… but I'll do my best! You don't have to find another Chosen One, I swear! I can help you!" Anakin immediately fires back, fueled in equal measure by desperation and determination and all the while I can't stop mentally kicking myself.

I had forgotten how cruel children can be, even unintentional. Even if they are Jedi in training and probably hadn't even meant to hurt Anakin's feelings, but were merely trying to emulate their Masters in thinking "logically".

I was so used to dealing with other Masters in their own rights, had gotten so used to the respect that they treated me with, that I had completely forgotten that the Temple is also populated by those who haven't even heard of me (yet) and who hadn't gotten the memo as nobody thought to include them in these matters.

And now I was dealing with a child who, over the course of mere days, had been told that he was the Chosen One, only to then be doubted on the truth of that claim and then have it all brought to a head by being "abandoned", apparently validating those doubts.

How to diffuse this?

Well, start at the beginning and begin with the truth.

"Anakin. Listen very carefully. I will explain more about who and what the Chosen One is, and how it relates to you and I'll try to explain in more detail why I didn't think it was a good idea to take you with me on this journey. But, first and foremost, there is a truth that you _must_ learn. It is absolutely vital and you must _never_ forget it, understood?" I ask, my voice dead serious and my brow furrowed.

Anakin hastily wipes his arm over his teared up eyes before giving me rapid nods, settling down in anticipation as the tension builds.

"_You_ Anakin Skywalker… are my student." I finish calmly, and I feel a flare of amusement as Anakin keeps on listening with an attentive expression, which slowly morphs into a confused one when he realizes I'm finished speaking already.

Before the confusion can become too great, I elaborate.

"You are my student, Anakin. That's a special bond, one which lasts forever. Now I have the rank of Master and you the rank of Padawan, so that may seem self-evident to you at first, but this is a type of relationship that endures even once you have obtained the rank of Master yourself. Just look at Count Dooku if you want proof: he rules a planet now and has his own fledgling order of Force Users and he is still my student and I still care for him deeply. No matter how far apart we may be, no matter what disagreements we may have, no matter _what_ happens… that is the truth you must _always_ remember, Anakin. You _are_ my student, and I will cherish you as such until the end of my days."

The silence following my little speech is heavy and I politely pretend not to notice as Anakin tries to get his sniffling under control, instead turning back towards my tea and taking gentle sips until the youth has recomposed himself.

"Uhm… thanks, Master. And the rest. The whole… Chosen One thing."

"Ah yes. I'm afraid I must apologize, Anakin. I had forgotten to account for the burdens you would carry when I decided to return to the Coruscant Temple. Due to my past, due to who I am and who I am related to, you will be subjected to a level of scrutiny that is… unusual, for common Padawans. However, what further complicates this is the idea of the Chosen One. From what you've told me, you don't actually know the story about him, do you?"

Seeing Anakin's hesitant shake of the head, I let out a deep hum, before continuing.

"As you may know, some Jedi are capable of Foresight, giving them visions of the future. I myself am quite renowned for my strength in this particular gift and for how I've chosen to use it. Many ages ago, one of the Jedi had a vision of the far future and foretold that an extremely powerful Force User would rise up to destroy the Sith and return balance to the Force. Thus, the Legend of the Chosen One was begun and passed on through the Jedi Order for many generations. Over a thousand years ago, the Sith were thought destroyed and the Legend faded, though it was occasionally debated as to who the likely candidate had been to fulfill the role of the Chosen One. As I have always claimed and now has been confirmed however, the Sith still exists, and as such, the Legend of the Chosen One has yet to be fulfilled." I explain, watching Anakin with keen eyes in order to gauge how much of that he actually caught.

In my many centuries spent teaching, I've often found that people of all ages, species and backgrounds tend to pick up more than they are usually given credit for (or even they give themselves credit for) and with none is this more apparent than with children. Whenever I needed to explain something to Anakin, or indeed to any of my Padawan in the past, I would never "dumb it down" for them, instead speaking to them as an equal. If in that case things were unclear, I would go over the parts that they hadn't quite gotten the hang of but at an easier level, again and again until they understood _all _of the material.

While Anakin's strength would always be his… well, his (phenomenal) strength, he certainly wasn't a slouch in the intellect department either, and just like now, I was pleased to see that he didn't require any additional explaining in order to understand what I was trying to teach him.

"Fulfilled… by me." he slowly says.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." I reply easily, smiling when I see his surprised look.

"Anakin. The chance that you are indeed the Chosen One… it is very great. In fact, I and many others on the Council, believe that you _are_ in fact the Force User of Legend. A connection to the Force like yours has not been seen in _millenia_, and I suspect you will only continue to grow stronger as you mature. But that does not mean you _have_ to be the Chosen One."

"Wait. I don't get it: I'm the Chosen One but I don't have to be the Chosen One? How does that even work?"

Briefly I trace the scare crossing my scalp again, trying to figure out how to explain the concept of determinism in a universe which has the Force to a living lynch pin of destiny itself.

"Well… there are people who believe in destiny. They think that there is some great, unknowable design in the scheme of things, a history that stretches beyond into the future, a tale that is already written. Since the tale is already written, it also describes what the people in it are doing, and so if you believe in destiny, you believe you _have_ to act in a certain way, because that's the way the story will go. Many Jedi believe in destiny."

Anakin briefly struggles with the idea, but the future-story analogy helps and he gives a nod of understanding.

"But you don't?"

"No, I don't, which may be an odd thing for a Jedi to say. Then again, I've been told I'm a very odd Jedi, so I suppose it all works out. I am a follower of the Living Force: that means that I believe that the Force exists in all living things, meaning that the Force is surrounding me at all times, connecting me to all that lives and breathes as a part of a larger whole. However, in contrast to the school of the Unifying Force philosophy, which my brother follows, I believe that what we see, hear, _feel_ in the here and now matters. It is in the present that all beings live, so it is in the present that we must act."

Seeing Anakin's furrowed brow as he tries to keep up, I smile and dial it down a bit.

"Don't worry Anakin, we'll revisit the different aspects of the Force and it's different philosophies in the future. For now, all that you need to know is that I believe that the Force may have a plan, but that plan, even though it may try to outline our futures, is nevertheless shaped by how we act in the here and now. You are the Chosen One, right here, right now. Your future _may_ be to destroy the Sith and restore balance to the Force, and _yes_, we _will_ discuss exactly what can be understood under "balance", _that_ is a piece of destiny you can count on." I end mock-sternly, wagging a clawed finger at the boy, who can't help but grin in response which in turn broadens the smile on my face.

"But that is only a possibility. That is the future, which isn't here yet. _Here_, _now_, you are the Chosen One. What you choose to _be_, that is up to you. And what it is that you choose, will eventually determine who you will become. And if you choose to become a mechanic, or a teacher, or a pilot, then those are _your_ choices. The Force will always be with you, Anakin, it will pay closer attention to you than anyone else in the galaxy. But it cannot make decisions for you. Your life may never be completely normal, or turn out how you envisioned it, but always remember that it is _your_ life. You get to live it, not some ancient prophecy."

By now, the last of my tea has gotten cold and I can see that Anakin begins to struggle with the sheer amount of information I've unloaded on him, right on the heels of the emotional rollercoaster he has been experiencing these past few days, so I decide to wrap things up.

I drain the last of my tea, but as I do, Anakin asks me a question which takes me off guard.

"So... you wouldn't mind?"

"Wouldn't mind what, my boy?"

Briefly the child worries the hem of his large shirt between his fingers as he bites his lips, before he manages to continue.

"You wouldn't mind if… if I didn't become a strong Jedi? Grow up to be a hero?"

Smiling, I step closer to him, placing my gnarled hand over his small ones.

"Anakin, I would _never_ ask of you to become a great Jedi."

His head shoots up in surprise, his eyes as wide as they will go and I elaborate with a smile.

"No, all I ask is that you grow up to be a _good_ man. A man who cherishes his loved ones, who is kind to strangers and who does not abide evil. If you manage to do that, than I will be _more_ than happy."

A load seems to have lifted off the child's shoulders as he sits up straighter in his chair with a relieved smile, and I chuckle as I put away my mug in the sink. Turning back towards the boy, I push out my Force Presence, my expression sterner as the mood turns serious. Anakin responds to the shift immediately, focusing intently on me as he sits up even further.

"Now then, the final explanation. Why did I decide to leave you with Master Jin in the Jedi Temple? I've told you that I thought this trip was far too dangerous to take you along, but I didn't go into details as to why. Perhaps that was my mistake: by being too vague, I didn't convey the threat properly enough. I did so however, because I didn't wish to unnecessarily frighten you or disturb you. Given that you are here now, it's clear though that I'll need to elaborate further on just what exactly the Sith are capable of. Or, more specifically, what Darth Plagueis is capable of."

Anakin leans slightly forwards in naive anticipation: he's a child, all this talk of dangerous enemies and evil powers isn't really scary to him, merely exciting. He only felt Maul very briefly and distantly when we eluded the assassin on Tatooine and he felt perfectly safe at the time in the company of three Jedi and a Queen's guard. He had come closer to the corrupted Zabrak on Naboo, but that memory was overshadowed by the exhilaration of flying that starfighter so shortly after the encounter.

I would have to impress upon him just how different of a monster my current target was.

"I think I've told you about this before in passing, but the Sith observe something known as the Rule of Two, which was installed by a Sith called Bane a very long time ago. The Rule states that the Sith order, once vast with many followers, may never have more than two members: a Master and an Apprentice. The Master seeks out a worthy heir, and trains them to the best of their ability, until the Apprentice is strong enough to kill their teacher and take the title of Master for themselves. Then they in turn begin searching for the one who will eventually kill them and so on. I've been fighting them for centuries and came close to ending this cycle once or twice, but they have always managed to endure in one way or another. The last set of Master and Apprentice I faced before our adventure on Tatooine and Naboo, were called Darth Tenebrous and Lord Plagueis."

"Oh, I know this! You killed Tenbr… Teben… you killed the Darth one, right? But he was, like super famous or something, so a lotta people got mad at you for killing him, even though he was an evil Sith."

"The truth was _slightly_ more… complex, than that, but in essence, yes. I slew Tenebrous in personal combat, but it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination and there were several points during the fight that I thought for sure that I would die. But the Force was with me that day instead of him and eventually I was the one to walk away from the confrontation. However, during the chaos of the fight, his apprentice, Plagueis, managed to run away and hide. With his Master gone, Plagueis followed the Rule of Two and declared himself Master, which meant he should start looking for an Apprentice of his own. But, there was a complication."

"Really? What was it?" Anakin asks, now sitting on the edge of his seat.

"There was another who called had claimed the title of Darth. A rival to his position. He was a Bith, like Tenebrous before him, and though it was never proven, I strongly suspect he was Tenebrous' son. Plagueis knew that he couldn't continue the Rule of Two as the Master if someone else also laid claim to the title of Darth and so he tracked down his rival, who was called Venamis, and confronted him. Venamis was strong in the force, capable of summoning lightning and even of flight, but Plagueis' knowledge of the Dark Arts ran deeper, his ambitions greater and his power, when fully unleashed, eclipsed even those of his nemesis."

"Wow. What happened next?" Anakin asks, an excited gleam in his eye, since to him, this is something taken straight out of the action novels he reads, or the shows that he watches.

He's about to learn what makes Sith different (and so, _so_ much more dangerous) than his Saturday morning cartoon villains.

"Plagueis killed Venamis, of course."

"...oh."

But at that, I lean forwards, pushing out my Force presence until the air in the room begins to feel heavy and I can see Anakin's eyes widen and hear his heartbeat quicken.

"But this wasn't enough for Plagueis. For you see, Plagueis possessed the ultimate ambition: he wished to use the Dark Side to gain immortality. And since immortality is the art of not dying, what better test subject than someone who you have _just_ killed, who you feel enough hatred for that calling upon the Dark Side becomes child's play even? And so Plagueis' took the corpse of his slain nemesis, and dragged it back to his base. And there he preformed unholy experiments. He inscribed upon Venamis mangled body the foul runes of Sith Alchemy, used drugs and technology to mend what had been broken and infused the corrupting strength of the Dark Side into his enemy… and Venamis opened his eyes again, called back from death itself. But Plagueis is both a perfectionist and sadist, and he could hardly call it research if he did only the _one_ experiment. So he destroyed Venamis, and began anew. Deep in his hidden base, the Dark Side howled, the dead screamed… and Venamis opened his eyes again. And again. And again. For _years_, he spent each living day in torment and agony, going mad with the knowledge that, in Plageuis' hands, not even begging for death would lead to a brutal, swift mercy. For Plageuis had learned how to expand his reach further than any Sith before him, so that now his vile claws reached even beyond the veil of death itself: _nowhere _was safe anymore. That is how I found Venamis, Anakin. A gift, from _Darth_ Plagueis to me. A wild bantha chase, tracking down state of the art medical supplies, surgical droids and experimental drugs led me to a dark pit, in the underbelly of a city which I will not name on a planet best left forgotten. There I found Plageuis' hated nemesis, on an operation table, holding his own heart in his hands. Holding it out towards me, trying to beg me to destroy it, to send him into death's embrace for the final time. He would've cried, but Plagueis' had had his droids cut off Vanamis' face. He would've begged, but Plagueis' had had his throat and chest splayed open and his lungs removed. To this day, it is the most horrifying scene I have ever stumbled across in nearly a millennium of wandering the breath of the galaxy, and one that will haunt me until the day that I die. And now, a fellow Jedi and someone close to my heart, has been his captive for _months_ at least, enduring who knows what, and I have a mere _child_ as a student. No, I would keep a dozen star systems between you and anything Plagueis has so much as _touched_, Anakin. In truth, I would've never told you this story and instead taken it to my grave, but you _must_ know the danger he presents. Do you understand now?"

I feel absolutely horrible, not only because of the vivid memories that came to the forefront of my mind when I recounted the tale, but seeing Anakin's ashen face and sickened expression… it reminds me of myself, when I followed Plageuis' trail of breadcrumbs to his little "present".

"Do you understand now, Anakin?" I press again, and the boy is startled, before looking back at me with wide eyes.

"I understand." he says softly giving a shaky nod.

"Good. That's good." I respond, before approaching him, climbing up on the seat next to his and laying one of my hands on top of his white-knuckled fist.

"Now then. Before, you asked me if you failed some kind of test, so let me be clear with you right now: if I want to test you on something, I will _tell_ you that I want you to perform something specific, or recount something I've taught you. None of that hidden-lesson, the-truth-was-inside-you-all-along crap, I promise you that, alright?" I ask, intentionally keeping my tone as light as possible to dispel the dark atmosphere from earlier.

It works, somewhat at least, as Anakin gives me a small smile in response.

"So, with that being said, here's a lesson. Considering what we have talked about, what you have learned today, I want _you_ to make a decision. The last few that I have made didn't properly take your struggles into account, so I think it's only fair for you to make this important one now. Reflect on what we've learned, and then answer me this: do we turn the ship around, or do we keep going?"

"What?" he asks in a shocked voice, wide eyes turned towards me.

"Do we continue or go back? It's up to you." I reply calmly.

"But… the whole Plague thing!"

"Yes. Plagueis is a grave danger. But, I will not send you away from my side ever again unless _you_ agree to it. Your safety and continued good health are my greatest concerns, Anakin, and that includes your mental state. If I leave you behind everytime I decide to fight something dangerous, then that makes me an unsuitable teacher for you. It should be my responsibility to keep you safe at all times, even when you place yourself in unsafe environments out of a desire to aid me. So yes, while I don't want you anywhere _near_ monsters like Plagueis, I won't leave you behind on a distant planet ever again. I _will_ find a way to keep you safe from harm, even on missions such as these. But, again, this is your decision."

Anakin bites his lip as he struggles with the choice for a long time, clearly doing his best to consider it from as many angles as he can think of, trying to incorporate the lessons I've given him into his thought process.

After about ten minutes or more, he comes to his decision, giving a firm nod and turning towards me with determined eyes.

"We go save your friend."

"Why?" I ask neutrally, indicating that he should show his thought process.

It's how I usually quiz him on things and he knows that this is the part that I think is the most important during our lessons: even if he got the answer right, if the way he arrived to that answer was wrong (say, by simple guessing) then it still wouldn't count.

As such, he's prepared, immediately launching into an explanation.

"I get what you said about not wanting me along. And to be honest, I don't really wanna come along anymore. I mean, I still wanna help! It's just, I don't really wanna, you know 'prove that I'm strong enough' anymore. I don't think I wanna face that Plague guy before I'm big and strong and have got, like, a _hundred_ lightsabers! And tanks! And my own battledroids! And-"

"Ahem. _Anakin_."

"Oh, right. So yeah, definitely don't wanna fight that guy. But I _do_ wanna help. I wanna be like you said: a good man. That means I gotta help you save your friend, so I can help with the ship! You know how good I am with a hydrospanner, I bet there's plenty of stuff that I can do from here! Also… also, I've been thinking about what you said Plague did to that other Venom guy? I've seen the flight schedule when I sneaked aboard while you and your brother were talking weird. Where we are now on the route, if we turn back to Coruscant… you'll lose _days_, at _least_. I don't want your friend to be in the hands of that Plague guy for even more days because of a stupid mistake that _I_ made. That's not fair." He softly finishes, waiting for my judgement call.

"And _that_ Anakin…" I say in a stern voice, and I can see him slump somewhat in disappointment as he readies himself for a tirade.

"... shows you have the makings of a good man already." I say instead with a warm smile, clapping him firmly on the shoulder, laughing silently at his surprised expression.

Hopping off the chair, I make my way out of the common area, calling over my shoulder as I go.

"C'mon then! I'll show you to your room. Also, the ship still needs a name: how would you like to come up with one for her, hmm?"

There's a short beat of silence, and then the exited pitter-patter of feet slamming hurriedly against the floor.

"Oh I've already been thinking about that! The Great Krayt Dragon! Celestial Wingmaw! TERROR OF THE SKIES-!"

"Anakin? Perhaps something a little more… realistic?"

"Oh… hmm, how about: BARBAROUS BATTLE HYDRA OF BATUU!"

"Points granted for the alliteration. Points deducted because you _clearly_ skipped parts of your homework again: there are no Hydras on Batuu."

"Ahw man…"

As I had already claimed the captain's quarters (though given that I didn't really have many possession other than a few changes of clothes, there hadn't really been much to claim the room with, leaving it looking just as barren as before I came onboard), I installed Anakin in the First Mate's quarters, across the hall from me.

As it turns out, he had brought a duffel bag about as large as he was and had stuffed it with basic survival gear, as I had taught him: spare clothes, tailored for a range of possible environments, basic medical equipment, rations and so on.

Of course, Anakin, being only a child, had added a few "essentials" of his own, such as a large number of toys and some action hero magazines.

Somewhat more unusual was the high-quality hydrospanner and diagnostic device, as well as what seemed to be the beginnings of a verbo-brain.

Then again, Anakin was _quite_ the tinkerer.

After helping him place his stuff in the various bins and lockers and preparing his bed, I help him settle in, before turning around and preparing to leave, ready to fall into the comfort of my own bed.

His voice, small in the darkness of the room, stops me however.

"Master?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"... is it okay if I'm scared? Just a little bit! But… you know… still scared?"

"What makes you ask that? Is is something the other Padawan said?"

"... Obi-Wan. He says Jedi don't feel fear."

"A trained Jedi can learn to free himself of fear, yes. Being brave is not merely being unafraid, Anakin. I'm unafraid to face a baby Blurrg in ritual combat, that does not make me brave, does it?"

The mental picture of me heroically staring down a teeny tiny baby Blurrg is enough to sent Anakin in a chukling fit and once he calms down a bit, I continue.

"To be brave means to be afraid… and to _still_ push on. It is through overcoming fear that you become truly brave, and it is the mark of every single great Jedi in our Order… and something good people do on a daily basis. So yes, Anakin, it is perfectly alright to feel afraid, even if it's just a little bit. Because the Force will always be there to help you overcome it. And _should_ there ever come a day where the Force fails you… know that _I_ will always be there to lend a hand as well."

There is a long pause before Anakin speaks up again.

"Thanks Yondu."

"You are very welcome Anakin."

* * *

**Fun Fact:** Originally, George Lucas wanted Yoda to be played by a monkey with a mask instead of using a puppet.

**AN:** MAN, writing kids is _hard_! I have no idea how to keep the speech childlike, with words children would use, since I wasn't exactly a normal one so I wouldn't really know. But I also don't want to cripple it to the point that the dialogue no longer gives the information I'm trying to convey, if that makes any sense?

ALSO: Come up with cool ship names! ^^ I haven't gotten any right now :(

So, here's a weird question for ya. This story will most likely focus on the period between Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones, so the stuff that we didn't get to see in the prequels. That means this story will display the transformation of Jake Lloyd Anakin into Hayden Christensen Anakin. But as I was thinking on that, something struck me. Those would cover his teenage years. You know. The years in which the body begins…. _changing_. What even… what. How did that happen in the canon universe? Did Obi-Wan give _The Talk_? Should Yondu? Hell, do _any_ Jedi get _The Talk_? I mean, deal with your emotions with whatever space magic you want, but puberty is basic biology, how does that work.

Anyway, that's the weird shit going through my brain when I skip sleep to continue writing, hope y'all like the chapter, I'm gonna crash now, ok? bYe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hunt for Yaddle**

* * *

If I was the super-secret lair of a madman fueled by the corrupted cosmic energy of life itself where unholy experiments and affronts to nature were performed on a daily basis, where would I be?

I was sitting in the main lounge area, a freshly brewed cup of tea on the low-slung sturdy table in front of me, legs folded underneath me as I leaned back in the old, faded leather of the couch as I pondered on the question. Anakin was in the cockpit with a datapad, eagerly looking through the ship's log books and nav computer, transcribing… whatever he found interesting, I guess. With his talent for engineering, boosted as it was through the Force, I had very little doubt that, if I left him in there for long enough, he'd eventually be able to build his own starship out of scrap.

As long as he didn't tear apart _this_ ship in order to do so, I was fine with that. And hey, if he managed to find ways to incorporate little upgrades in our recently named _Unfettered Destiny_, then I wasn't going to stop him.

Not only did the _Berloz_-class ships allow for a great deal of customization already, meaning our old girl was practically _made_ for this, there was the Force itself to consider, which seemed to have a fondness for old-timer ships that performed beyond their specifications.

Never imagined that a cosmic force could be sentimental, but well, here we are nonetheless.

Putting the tiny Chosen One out of my mind for now, I return to the earlier question. The obvious answer of course is "hidden". Sure, but hidden _where_? The Galaxy is a large place, to put it mildly, with the areas officially (and unofficially) under the control of the InterGalactic Banking Clan taking up a not insignificant part of that. Of course, that was assuming that Hego Damask would place his lairs in his own backyard in the first place. While it would give him more control and protection, it was also a risk to his cover identity. If any Sith-related business was found there, then my longstanding claims about his true nature as Darth Plagueis would suddenly carry a _lot_ more weight.

Plausible deniability only goes so far, after all.

It was entirely possible that he would want his secret lairs as far away from anything even remotely connected to Hego Damask III as possible, in order to keep several layers of separation between his _actual _work and his cover identity.

Then again, that would severely limit what he could actually test and create at such locations, as many of the experiments that a Sith with his speciality would engage in required a more _personal _touch.

Sith Alchemy is hardly something to be attempted over the holo after all.

So, the necessity of his personal attention, combined with his own arrogance and the fact that the Sith have begun to act more boldly (as made evident by them sending out Darth Maul into the field to kill opponents of their puppet Trade Federation), caused me to believe that, if it wasn't located in Banking Clan territory itself, it would at least be close by.

So, for now, following the Braxant Run was still our best bet, but unfortunately, that still didn't narrow things down by much. As the main off-shoot of the Hydian Way into the Northern quadrant of the Galaxy, it was one of the largest hyperspace lanes out there, immensely wide, long and with more branching paths than can be reasonably mapped. Due to the difference between hyperspace and real-space, a small enough station might even be placed inside the Run itself, and starships would just blast past it as long as there was a small enough interference for it to not be noticed. Risky, yes, but doable.

That's not even considering just placing it off on the side on one of its many branching paths, or just randomly somewhere in the vast emptiness of interstellar space. Make it small enough, shield it well enough, and there was hardly anywhere you couldn't hide a secret lair.

The only real problems you would face with such a set-up, which was why it wasn't used by every crook, smuggler and criminal in the Galaxy, were of a logistical nature. If it was _that_ well-hidden and difficult to reach, then how were you gonna ferry your supplies, your fuel, your personnel back and forth on a regular basis? Either the amount of traffic that would need to accurately pin-point your secret lair every single time would end up getting large enough that it could hardly be called _secret_ anymore, or your lair would require a certain amount of self-sufficiency, which would bring a vast increase in size with it, which in turn would make shielding it harder, causing it to be more likely to be noticed and so on and so forth.

The Force could address several of these issues, but unless Plagueis pulled an entire Force-sensitive mercenary company out of his ass (not something that I was willing to dismiss just yet), those methods wouldn't work for the people actually responsible for the upkeep of the lair.

You could of course work with only droids, and the few hidden Sith lairs I had found over the years usually involved a large amount of automatization, but unless you invested heavily in top-of-the-line cybertech in order to give them advanced verbobrains, they tended to be more limited than their organic counterparts when it came to matters of secrecy, such as how quick you were at thinking on your feet and the like.

Droids were _notoriously _bad at bluffing, one of the key skills required for just about anything covert.

The Republic might no longer have a standing army, but it's bureaucracy was top-notch (at least in the Core and Mid-Rim) after several millennia, and they could track shipping manifestos like no other, especially when it concerned items that were heavily regulated, and the types of droids that could be of use for such installations were naturally part of that. More than one criminal gang had found the doors to their hide-outs busted down mere weeks after they thought they had been clever for sinking additional funds in some high-end security or combat-model droids.

It was the same idea as Al Capone being taken down on tax evasion, but on a Galactic scale by a bureaucracy that had had nearly 20,000 years to perfect its hellish craft.

You could of course circumvent that by going to the criminal circuits, but they tended to self-regulate themselves pretty heavily as well, so an order of the magnitude that Plageuis would need for a fully droid-operated secret base wouldn't stay secret for very long.

Unless of course he prudently cut off every single loose end, but that would bring its own share of attention to him, which was the last thing he needed, especially as he probably knew that I had a few feelers of my own out into the criminal world at all times.

So, the stealthiest option for a secret base would be somewhere off the main Braxant Run, preferably off on one of its unmapped branches, supplied by a small crew of organics who could be influenced (and silenced) without much hassle, with plenty of automatization in the base itself, while being close enough to the seat of power of his alter ego that he could reliably travel there unnoticed and relatively quickly, in order to actually get some use out of it.

Hmmm. Actually, that might narrow down the search rather significantly, as some half-remembered shred of a memory niggles at the back of my brain. The sheer discrepancy in time and experience between my current life and the one before this one meant that much of that life had been forgotten over the centuries, but the Force was indeed a pathway to _many_ abilities.

It might not have given me perfect recall, but even memories that long ago should've fallen into the void of forgetfulness still managed to climb to the fore whenever I found that I had need of them.

And right now, I was reminded of a little snippet of trivia: the Braxant Run ended in Wild Space, the final frontier before the mysterious Unknown Reaches, the area of space right on the very edge of the Galaxy itself. Beyond lay the incomprehensibly vast emptiness of intergalactic space, a region so inhospitable and, well, _unknown_, barely anyone dared venture there.

Only daredevils and mad men willingly made the jump into that dark abyss. Daredevils, mad men… and Zabrak scouts, who had managed to travel even beyond the end of the Braxant Run into the Unknown Regions itself, operating out of Wild Space.

Wild Space… now _there_ was a possibility. A region which housed powerful, ancient and _dangerous_ worlds. Odessen, Iokath… _Mortis_. Worlds that Anakin simply wasn't ready for. Worlds that _I_ wasn't ready for.

Thousands of years ago, a mighty empire had risen there to challenge both the Republic and the Empire with unmatched warships and powerful wielders of the Force, before it was brought low not even a decade later and faded into obscurity. Still, they had struck with such strength and viciousness, travel to that untamed region had virtually stagnated for many centuries, at least until the crimes and strength of that long-gone realm had faded from memory and settlers had once more begun their trek across the stars, this time unopposed.

Now, thousands of years later, not much had changed, with the entire region only nominally being within the sphere of influence of the Republic and with the Senate appearing wholly uninterested in changing that fact. It acted more as a backer in the many conflicts that raged between the various warlike species that called the region their home, supporting those whose politics aligned the closest with the Republic's wishes (for as long as they _remained_ aligned with said wishes at least). As was the case with Kalee, for instance, homeworld of the Kaleesh and the warrior who would become feared across the Galaxy as General Grieveous, who now fought against the Republic-supported mantis-like Yam'rii. The official reason for this was that the Yam'rii had petitioned the Republic through their connections with the Trade Federation and the Republic had ruled their version of events as being the real one, punishing the Kaleesh and even wanting to dispatch Jedi to put a stop to the war.

Thankfully I had convinced my brother to at least veto that, and Masters T'Chooka D'Oon and Jmmaar had only been sent in a diplomatic and advisory capacity with a whole host of relief droids and volunteers, though my claims that this was once again the hidden hand of the Sith at work had gone unheeded at the time.

The unofficial reason for the Republic's support of the Yam'rii (and thus its betrayal of the Kaleesh) was because the Kaleesh proved themselves just a tad _too_ successful when _they_ had been backed by the Republic against the Bitthævrians almost a century ago. After all, though their reach was minimal this far outside of the Galactic centre, that didn't mean that news of the Yam'rii voracious expansion hadn't reached the ears of the Senators and they hardly cared about any allies of the Trade Federation, especially after their aggressive actions at Naboo. They had known that the story told by the Yam'rii was a pile of bullshit larger than the Senate Tower… they simply didn't care.

This was a political game being played at a Galactic level, and with both species exhausting themselves against each other (the Kaleesh through impossibly hard sanctions and the Yam'rii simply due to outright being slaughtered by the thousands at the hands of Grieveous and his _Izvoshra_), it was a game that would leave the Republic as the only possible winner.

Needless to say, the Republic's political actions in Wild Space were hardly ever mentioned back in the Core and though I had tried to act as a whistleblower on many occasions, my concerns were hardly ever heeded by the Senate.

The Jedi merely protected the Republic after all, we did not write its policies, as smug politicians kept reminding me.

Yet now, the ongoing war was another indicator that I might be on the right path in locating my nemesis' secret base (or one of many, as was more likely). After all, it had been the InterGalactic Banking Clan that would have arranged for the crash of Grieveous' shuttle and it had been San Hill, a distant cousin to Hego III, who had bought the General's replacement body from the Geonosians in order for the Kaleesh warrior to lead the troops of the Separatists.

A clear indication that my nemesis has his long fingers in several pies across Wild Space. Recruitment was easy here, especially amongst a warlike species that already had a (somewhat justified) bone to pick with the Republic, however, the procedure to actually create a cyborg of Grieveous' calibre indicated a more dedicated presence.

A super-secret evil lair for instance, one which might also house other 'projects', such as a certain friend of mine, perhaps?

It wouldn't be difficult for Plageuis, or others of his Clan such as Hill, to find willing and able proxies within Wild Space. It was charted for the most part, yes, but with large swathes still left unexplored and with practically no supervision of the Republic and as such without any noteworthy Jedi presence, save for those few that were sent there went the ever-present conflict threatened to boil over into Republic-controlled territory. Criminal gangs operated virtually unopposed, a prime breeding ground for low-level grunts that wouldn't ask too many questions and didn't have too many aversions to less than savory assignments.

From there it would be a small step for my enemies to assemble a crew from the various miscreants that endured the harsh life that Wild Space had to offer, who were willing to do simple assignments to the Unknown Regions, provided the pay was good and they had access to a sufficiently detailed star map.

The Zabrak scouts that had ventured into the Unknown Regions (and actually managed to return) most likely kept said maps a closely guarded secret, but I very much doubted that whatever measures they had put in place would stand up against a sufficiently motivated Sith, especially one with the power that both Plageuis and Sideous boasted.

Sideous' mastery of the Force would most likely mean that whatever scout he had come across, would have had a mind that to the Sith would be no different from a book opened to the right page and paragraph.

As for Plagueis… well, there's only so much horror the sapient mind can endure before it simply… snaps.

And they _have_ shown a certain… affinity, for using the hardy Zabrak as their agents…

Very well then. Onwards to the very edges of Wild Space we would go, in order to find ourselves a clue on just how we would then make the attempt to venture forth into the dangers of the Unknown Regions themselves, where one of my closest friends was undoubtedly enduring unspeakable horrors even now.

No sweat.

* * *

So, I knew that for any leads to Plageuis' hidden machinations hidden far out in the unknowable Unknown Regions, I would have to search amongst the lawless and the heartless that populated Wild Space.

Sure, it narrowed down my search, but only from trillions to billions. Fortunately, there were some ways to narrow it down further from billions to 'mere' millions. For one, several planets were out immediately, either because they were too civilised (such as the Alderaan-like Bakura), or simply because there was nothing there in the first place (such as the hazardous Indoumodo, which might provide the assassins of the Galaxy with the various bounties of its massive poisonous jungles, but had a population of less than a million primitive people).

No, Plageuis would prefer a busy, seedy place. A lot of willing supplicants, but more importantly, a place where nobody would ask too many questions when said supplicants ended up missing.

As I went over the list of known planets, colonies and space stations with Anakin, who helpfully navigated the vast database with uncanny ease and precision, my eye was drawn to one name in particular, once again alerted by a shred of memory from a past life almost completely forgotten: Zonju V.

One of the planets visited by the student of Kyle Katarn himself, as Jaden Korr sought to oppose the Disciples of Ragnos. A desolate, dusty place, where criminality was the norm, Zonju V was located towards the Outer Rim, placing it closer towards the Unknown Regions as well.

Anakin looked somewhat dubious when I told him that's where we were going, but my attunement to the Force convinced me it was the right call, a certain pressure nestling in my gut, anticipation tingling from my scalp down to my toes.

I left him to enter the coordinates as I made my way to the large and mostly empty cargo bay area, pondering on what was to come. Considering what was lying in wait for us at the end of our travels, I was already concerned for Anakin's safety, but it wasn't as if the journey to get there in the first place was without dangers of its own.

Yes, we would be avoiding large areas of conflict, such as the ongoing Kaleesh-Yam'rii War (it wasn't as if the vengeance-obsessed Grieveous and his warriors had been appreciative of my fellow Jedi's attempts at restoring the peace after the Senate had struck their people with so many harsh and unjust sanctions after all), and planets that were inherently dangerous (such as the aforementioned Indoumodo or the prison planet of Orinackra) and planets where we might draw the attention of the Sith through our interference (such as Kamino, where I feared my friend Syfo-Dias would soon travel).

And we would _definitely_ stay as far as possible away from worlds like Iokath and Mortis.

But our stop in Zonju V would hardly be without its own perils. In order to track down any information on crews that might travel into the Unknown Regions I would probably have to shake up the criminal underworld rather significantly (though I suppose on a planet like Zonju V it could just be called the criminal _world_, considering how crime was the prime source of income for many of its inhabitants).

It wasn't something that Anakin wasn't used to, as I had done so on many occasions throughout our travels through the Galaxy as I followed wherever the Force sought fit to send me. Still, usually he was rather far removed from the action in those cases, either staying in the safer areas or keeping the getaway vehicle at the ready for my inevitable sudden need for a quick escape from wrathful gangsters.

Where we would be travelling now however, I very much doubted there even was such a thing as a 'safe area' and this time, there would be no running away once I had thoroughly trounced the boss of whatever little criminal gang had caught my eye.

We would truly be in the thick of it this time and that meant that it was time to take off the kid's gloves as well.

These years of peace, running around with Anakin in tow merely hitting small-time crooks and going on silly adventures, had been a nice reprieve, but it was time for the old Yondu to come back to the fore, the Old Wanderer, the bane of criminals everywhere across the Galaxy, the Rogue Jedi.

And Anakin would have to be able to keep up with him.

Which was why, as a slight shudder went through the thick frame of the _Unfettered Destiny_, I wasn't surprised as I heard soft footfalls quickly approach from the front end of the ship. Dropping my heavy outer robe to the floor and giving it a quick Force push off to the side, I turned to face Anakin who had just cleared the small set of stairs leading to the bay area itself in a mighty leap for an eleven-year-old.

Straightening from the crouch he landed in, he gives me a big grin, which dims somewhat when he sees my serious expression and feels my heavy presence in the Force.

Noticing what my dreary thoughts had unwittingly caused me to do, I reign in my pressure with a small smile, though I keep my serious expression on my face. Anakin quickly cottons on, as he straightens his small frame and turns inquisitive eyes on my own.

Giving him a nod of approval, I approach him until I'm standing next to him, floating one of the heavy containers filled with emergency rations, various clothes and camping gear and additional odds and ends over towards us.

Without a word, I release my ethereal hold on the enormous crate, which is taller than either me or the Human child next to me. As the Force moves away from the dark metal, the entire crate drops to the floor, smashing into it hard enough to produce an enormous bang (causing Anakin to nearly jump a foot in the air at the sudden sound), but thankfully not dent the starship-grade durasteel underneath.

Turning towards Anakin, I allow my grin to turn just a tad sharper, pointing towards the towering mass of metal in front of us with a clawed hand.

"Lift that."

Anakin's gulp is audible through the empty cargo hold.

* * *

It had taken a full two days before we finally arrived in orbit above Zanju V. This far out into Wild Space, relatively distant from the main branch of the Braxant Run itself, there was significantly less traffic than what would be considered normal in the Core and the Mid Rim, so unlike when I had to wait a couple hours to get docking clearance on Coruscant, here Anakin and I were told to land mere minutes after contacting the harbor master.

All in all, actually breaching the atmosphere and landing the _Unfettered Destiny _in a messy, dusty and cluttered bay had taken less time than convincing said harbor master to not rip us off by charging exorbitant prices. A simple wave with my hand would've taken care of that of course, but I had decided against that for two reasons.

The first being that I quickly gleaned from the grungy Human's mind that by the standards of this planet he was relatively above board, merely charging more than what reasonably should be asked for considering the quality of his hangars, but he never went beyond that. Unlike in some other, lousier ports, the space ships entrusted in his care were never vandalised or stripped for parts, and unlike many other criminals, the credits he received actually went into the upkeep of the port and his own family, instead of death sticks, spice and booze.

The second reason was that I wanted to show Anakin that a Jedi shouldn't be over-reliant on the Force to just magic their way out of a tough spot. As I had told both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan after Maul had successfully committed suicide, if a Jedi had to overcome his enemy with the strength of his weapons, rather than the truth in his words, he had already failed in a way. We were the most trusted diplomats and advisors of the Republic, dedicated to bringing peace and defusing tensions wherever we were sent.

If I couldn't even convince a mere space porter without resorting to overriding his will with my own, then how could I possibly consider myself a suitable diplomat when there were far greater things at stake than a mere few handfuls of credits?

Of course, I _hardly_ considered myself a diplomat in the first place (and you'd be hard-pressed to find a Jedi who would say otherwise), but the point still stands and I felt it was a good lesson for Anakin.

Even _if_ the grime-covered porter _really_ began to work on my nerves after ten minutes of fruitless back-and-forth with me having to stand on my clawed toes just in order to peer over the edge of the man's counter, which he clearly took great delight in.

However, I _finally_ managed to talk him down to a more reasonable price and then we were off, into the streets of Zoronhed, tall grey stone walls hemming us in. It was thankfully less sunny and sand covered than Mos Ila had been, no doubt due to the far higher structures and the greater size of the settlement itself keeping the dust from the vast arid plains from overflowing into the centre of the city. However, it also made for a far drearier place, not helped in the least by the generally unpleasant feel the hard-faced populace gave off.

There were various Humans about (as they could be found truly everywhere in the galaxy), but there were significantly larger amounts of non-humans present as well, mostly those who had a rather… negative reputation, further inwards towards the Core Worlds. Large numbers of the scaled Nikto and leather-faced Weequay of course and plenty of Duros and Twi'Leks, but I also saw more than a few Kubaz and Trandoshans. I even think I spotted one of the illusive Noghri, famed assassins and fighters and appearing much like stockier versions of Trandoshans, hidden by shadows off in a back alley, gleaming eyes idly scanning the throng of people moving across the main road in a hurry.

For several long minutes, Anakin and I idly moved with the flow of the people, trying to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, aided by both the Force and the heavy brown cloaks we had both slung over our forms, leaving our faces hidden in shadows so that we more closely resembled a couple of Jawas who had gotten _very_ lost than a renowned Jedi Master and his star pupil.

The cloaks had played a vital part in my epic negotiations with the wily harbor master, as he only agreed to finally shut up after I had agreed to pay slightly less than his initial asking price as long as he threw the cloaks in the deal.

At the time I had just been thankful to be free of the greedy little man and had thus not paid any attention to his grinning expression or thought too hard on why he had suddenly agreed, but as the smell from the cloth started to dominate my nostrils and an incessant itching began spreading across my scalp, I realized that the porter _definitely_ had gotten the better part of this deal.

As soon as we had concluded our business here, I was going to burn these cloaks and bodily throw Anakin in the fresher.

And invest in some delousing shampoo, just to be on the safe side.

Space-lice are just _the worst_.

For now though, we merely moved along with the crowd, our small stature aiding us in weaving through various long legs and knobbly knees as we made a quick tour of the city. The most important part of any operation is making sure you have an exit strategy ready,

The most important part of any _successful_ operation?

Having a back-up exit strategy.

I'm a Force sensitive in the Star Wars universe: assuming any plan of mine _doesn't _have (hilarious) complications is just self-delusion at this point.

Truthfully I didn't need to see much more of the city than just the few blocks surrounding the spaceport, already having spotted several back alleys and empty warehouses that would be ideal to shake off any potential pursuers, but despite the overall dreary atmosphere of the stone city, Anakin was still eager to explore, and so with good-natured exasperation I allowed him to drag me along as we walked from store to store, engaging in our fair share of people watching and even spending a few minutes observing as a street-swooping race was about to begin.

There was the usual posturing of course, the deafening rumble of engines that were definitely _not_ originally intended for something as light as a simple swoop and the even louder roar of the surrounding crowd. Swept up in the general excitement, Anakin cheered just as loudly as everybody else when the three racers finally took off in blazing trails of engine fire and kicked up dust, several of the nearest people chuckling at his child-like glee.

After all that excitement I decided that it was a good idea to find somewhere to cool off (and to avoid the surrounding people outside, as I didn't want them to think too long on what a little Human kid was doing out there in a rough neighbourhood like that) and without putting too much thought into it, I pulled him into the nearest Cantina.

It was a small, dingy place, the lights in the ceiling just barely providing enough light to see the main floor and the bar clearly, but leaving the booths in the corners and against the far walls in a half-shadow (which was most likely intentional). Smoke hid the ceiling from view and the sound of people murmuring amongst themselves in low, hushed tones blended together with the slight crackling sound of music coming from several speakers that had definitely seen better days. Booze and spice flowed freely and off to the side, in the far corner of the cantina right next to the bar, a single holo-terminal showed a dancing Twi'Lek, though its light was flickering and the footage was a very obvious loop of merely a few seconds.

Still, more than a few patrons were seated on the various stools around the terminal with appreciative eyes, the hard blue light reflected of their steadily emptying glasses, and in the case of more than a few of them, off exposed armour pieces and blaster barrels as well.

Definitely _not_ a place that caters to eleven-year old kids, and before we venture further into the den of crime and grime, I place a firm hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"Anakin. Follow Nar Shaddaa protocols, understood?"

"Don't tell my mother?"

"Don't draw any attention to yourself."

"Yes Master."

"Also, don't tell your mother."

And with that, we quickly stepped further inside, making our way to the far end of the bar. Ideally I would've liked to take a seat in one of the booths, their low visibility perfect if we wanted to keep our low profile, but then again I was hardly the first with that idea and they were all occupied already by varying amounts of lowlifes hashing out deals in whispered tones and thinly veiled threats.

As we climbed up on the barstools, I noticed with some surprise that _almost_ all booths were filled: the last one, furthest back into the corner of the cantina, only had a single occupant in it: a slender, armoured figure that was steadily nursing a large glass filled with amber liquid, the latest one of many considering half a dozen empty ones already littered the table.

Still, their senses apparently weren't dulled completely yet, as within seconds of me looking in the booth's direction, a pair of blazing yellow eyes flashed in my direction, large pupils turning to slits as they looked towards the brighter area of the cantina.

By now, that familiar feeling in my gut was back, and I mentally rolled my eyes at the Force. Of _course_, the next leg of our journey would begin in a Cantina of all things. Seriously, try some different tropes to use for once!

…

One of these days I'm gonna get used to the Force pulling its nose up at me, I swear.

Still, company clearly wasn't amongst the interests of the Cathar woman who was now staring at me openly in challenge, so I just gave a small polite nod before turning my back on her and facing the bar.

A droid was manning the counter while a lanky, middle-aged Rodian in noticeably finer clothing than most people here were wearing was idly looking through a datapad as he leaned against the wall behind the bar, humming to himself in satisfaction.

The proprietor of this fine establishment no doubt, probably looking over this week's earnings.

"Two waters." I calmly state once I've flagged the droid down and if it has the capability for surprise at the order, it doesn't show it, merely devoting itself to its newly assigned task with those wooden, scripted motions so typical for robots.

Anakin briefly seems disappointed he doesn't get to try any of the intriguing glowing liqueurs lined on the shelf behind the droid, but he settles down without a word when I give him a hard look.

We had agreed on Nar Shaddaa Protocols for a _reason_ after all.

As the droid took care of our order and I thought of the armoured Cathar woman (who I could feel had quit staring at my diminutive back and had returned her attention wholesale to the alcohol in front of her), I glanced towards the Rodian with a speculative gaze.

Well, I _did_ come here for information and if the Force was _that_ clear on playing through the familiar tropes, then there shouldn't be any harm in playing along with it.

"Excuse me, sir?" I asked politely and softly.

In the general hub-hub of the Cantina, my voice never should've reached the Rodian, but a slight push on his mind with the Force as I spoke ensured that his large, fly-like eyes immediately snapped towards my own as soon as the words left my mouth.

Curiosity warred with cautiousness as the Rodian tilted his head and pushed off the wall, pocketing his datapad but without making any moves to come closer.

"Somethin' I can help ya with?" he asks in Huttese, before he glances at the glasses in front of Anakin and me.

"The water not to ya liking?" he continues, slightly mockingly this time.

I merely smile politely in response.

"The water is fine. It has taken care of my thirst and I thank you for that. I was wondering if you could incidentally help me take care of something else as well then?"

Cautiousness returns stronger than before, but the owner of the Cantina hasn't turned away yet so I'm taking it as a good sign nonetheless.

"Depends on the thing, I'd say." he replies curtly, to which my smile merely grows wider.

"Merely some information, nothing more my friend."

"Ya know, information ain't that different from everything else ya can order at the bar, _friend_."

"Oh, how so?"

"It ain't free."

At that, my grin turns sharper, and using the wide sleeve of my outer robe, I place a thick credit chip on the scarred counter-top, hiding it from view from the other patrons, who thankfully don't seem to have anything other than a glancing interest in our little conversation.

"I guess it's a good thing that I didn't come here with the intention to dine and dash then, isn't it?" I ask leadingly, my voice as innocent as I can pitch it (which isn't very, but then again, it's not like _innocence_ is something that's really useful in a setting like this).

For a few seconds, the Rodian's eyes are fixed on the credit chip, before both the caution and curiosity from before are replaced by something else entirely: greed.

With a few steps he has come to the bar, leaning on the counter with both elbows, swiping the credit chip from my gnarled hand in a single smooth motion and I'm fairly certain none of the other patrons managed to even glimpse the exchange.

Even Anakin, sitting as close as he is and with his proficiency with the Force, blinks a few times at my suddenly empty hand before turning wide eyes on the sneaky Rodian.

"I guess it is, friend. What do ya wanna know? Ol' Troomba hears a lot from people coming through his little place, I'm sure I can tell ya all ya need about these parts." the now named Rodian replies with a sly little grin.

I smile in response and begin with my little 'interrogation'. I start easy, asking about stuff that's honestly just general knowledge: who are the biggest gangs around, what are some of the major shipping lanes to and from the planet, what's in demand and what's the latest news on some of the big shakers and movers in this part of the Northern Quadrant.

Other than learning that Cad Bane came through less than a month ago (and leaving nearly three dozen bodies in his wake despite only engaging in a single firefight) much of it was disappointingly mundane, no different from just about every place in the galaxy where things like 'authority' and 'legality' where mere conceptual notions than actual things to be adhered to.

Honestly, all in all the info was not even worth _half_ of what was on the credit chip I had given Troomba (not that he seemed to have any problem with that if the smugness oozing off his every thought was anything to go by), but it had done its purpose: the Rodian Cantina owner was noticeably more at ease than a few minutes ago, helped along by some careful Force manipulation from yours truly.

Sure, it was good to teach Anakin not to use the Force on others just to get my way, but this was a different case entirely: what was in this Rodian's brain could help me save Yaddle, so by the Force I was gonna squeeze every relevant drop of knowledge I could from it!

… that sounded better in my head.

As the Rodian leaned against the bar, his mind already going over what he could buy with the credits now burning a hole in his pocket, I moved onto my actual questions.

"The Unknown Regions? I mean, sure there's rumours about the place, but I'd stay away if I were you. All sorts of weird stuff happening ova dere."

"Oh? What kind of rumours?"

"You know, spooky stuff. 'People that go there are never heard from again' kinda spooky stuff. Only one crew goes out there, mostly Gamorreans and a couple nutcases and they sure ain't gonna tell ya about what in the Corellian Hells they're up to in there."

"A single crew? Who are they? Think you can point me in their direction?"

At that, the Rodian falls silent and I'm honestly surprised to see… guilt?

"Look. I don't know ya, but Ol' Troomba got a good feelin' 'bout ya. Take some advice, on the house: stay away from them. There ain't many of 'em, but they got money coming outta their ears an' nobody knows where it's coming from. Sure pays for mighty fine gear tho: their boss-man even got 'imself a fancy Beskar helmet, Mando Iron, genuine stuff. Now, you can't walk around Zoronhed with _that _kinda credit and _that _kinda gear and not expect someone to… ask a couple questions, if you feel what I mean. About a year ago, Black Sun themselves show up. And I ain't talking grunts, even tho that'd be scary enough. They sent a _luitenant_. This guy, right, walks right up to their bossman with his shiny helmet, says how Black Sun heard there was a crew with more money than it ought to have, so Black Sun does what it does: asks for a cut and if they don't get it, _they'll_ be doin' the cuttin'."

"I imagine things went south after that?"

Troomba scoffs at my words, though he falls silent when several of the patrons glance in his direction. He waits for a few moments, until the others look back towards the bottom of their glasses, before he leans closer towards me, lowering his voice enough that Anakin and I are forced to lean forwards over the counter as well.

"Yeah, ya'd think, wouldn't ya? It did, but sure not like ya'd expect. Ya see, this bossman, dunno what he is, 'cause of that shiny helmet, never takes the damned thing off. So, this bossman, he gets up outta his chair, towers over this lieutenant, who's a _Houk_. Towers over him, right? And starts _laughing_. Doesn't say nothing. Just laughs. And laughs. So these Black Sun guys, they get spooked or something, and they pick up their blasters. Big bossman stops laughing right there. And him and his crew, they don't even hesitate, they just…"

At this, Troomba briefly falls silent, his brilliant purple scales seemingly losing their shine for a few moments as a shudder travels down his spine.

"Let's just say, that day everyone here learned somethin' about Gamorreans, right? Those teeth, they _ain't_ for show, no sir. Gutted the entire lot of Back Sun goons, right there in the street. Had to bring out the hose for _days_. Guts don't wash off easy, ya see. Gutted everyone, they did… _except _the Black Sun lieutenant. Big bossman knocks him to tha ground with _one_ punch. Out cold, just like that."

Knowing from first-hand experience just how tough Houks generally are from the several times I've had a run-in with the large species, my eyes widen at the feat. Troomba isn't done however.

"After… everything was done, they take the lieutenant back to their ship and just… take off. Nobody's seen 'em for more than a week and then they suddenly just show up again. Land, right outside the edge of the city. Door opens up, nobody comes out. _Except_ that lieutenant they took with 'em. He… he didn't look right. Whiter than any Houk I've ever seen and his eyes were all red. Ain't talking bloodshot red, I mean _red_ kinda red. Unnatural, it was. This lieutenant, right? Just gives off the most horrible scream I've eva heard, chills down my spine I tell ya. And then he just… throws himself at the crowd that came out to watch what was goin' on. Now, Houks are plenty strong, but this guy? Pretty sure he could've broken a Wookie in half an' not even break a sweat. Killed nearly twenty people, just raging out like a lunatic. Course, this 'ere is Zoronhed, we ain't afraid of a little scrap, got more blasters here than people, so the moment the first bloke hits the floor, head split open all the way, we punch that Black Sun bastard full o' holes, but whatever they did ta him, seems he forgot ya supposed to keel over when ya belly gets blasted open. Unnatural, that was what it was. Not that we could ask the crew what the Hell they did to that guy anyways: took off while the Houk was raging out, ain't no one seen 'em since. Sure, they touch down now and then, but other than sending out a couple o' messengers and the like, the crew don't come into Zoronhed itself no more. Keep to their ship, the whole lot of 'em. Good riddance, I say." Troomba finishes his tale with a firm nod.

For a moment, we're silent and I reach out through the Force to calm Anakin, who has gone wide-eyed and white-faced as the Rodian's tale reached its conclusion.

"Troomba."

"What?"

"How would I go about tracking this group down?"

"What the- ain't ya been listening to Ol' Troomba?! Got sand in ya ears or somethin'?! What even-"

"_Troomba_." I reply more firmly this time, layering my voice with the Force, causing his eyes to snap towards mine again and for him to lower his arms.

Another flex of the Force and most of the patrons decide that they're actually _not_ all that interested in what got the Cantina owner all riled up and they once more turn back towards their drinks.

"Troomba, I _need_ to find these people. You yourself have seen what they are capable of. They need to be stopped; I _know_ you feel the same way. Or do you want them to show up again, kidnap more people just to let them rampage through the city again? Is that what you want Troomba?" I ask forcefully (pun intended, as I haven't fully let go of the Rodian's mind yet).

"... no." Troomba eventually concedes.

"Then help _me_ help _you_." I insist, but the Rodian is already shaking his head.

"Look, even if I wanna help ya, I can't. Told ya, they work out in the Unknown Regions. Nobody knows _what_ they do or _where_ they do it. You wanna stop them? Best bet is to just wait 'em out. Keep an eye out for when they make their usual stop and then follow 'em back to whatever hole they crawled out of."

"Come now, you don't expect me to believe that, do you? A town like this? Some_body_ knows some_thing_. I'm not asking you to put your life on the line here Troomba. Just that you point me towards someone who can help me out here. You _can_ do that, can't you?"

For several long moments, the Cantina owner remains silent and just as I prepare to increase my hold over his mind even further, his large eyes slide past my own, looking out over my right shoulder.

Right at where the Cathar woman is still staring stubbornly at the glass in front of her.

'_Of course. I knew it_.'

"I know one person. Wouldn't bother her if I was you, but since ye're already plannin' on takin' on those other scumbags I guess ye're not gonna listen anyways. Dunno what her deal is, but she's a dead man walking anyways."

"Why is that?"

"Same reason why she can help ya: used to run with that crew. Or, did _one_ run with that crew. Dunno the details, you'd have to ask her and hope ya don't get thrown in a ditch for yer troubles, but from what I heard, that crew needed a new pilot. Dunno what happened to their old one, don't _want_ to know. Course, everybody ain't keen on takin' a job for them. Say they got a right special map for the Unknown Regions. Must be some truth to that at least, otherwise they wouldn't have come back from there. Still, map or not, getting to that forsaken place still takes plenty o' skill, even more amounts of guts. Ain't an easy job, that's for sure."

Nodding, Troomba indicates the Cathar.

"Dunno how she heard about it, but she agreed to the job. Guess it wasn't much of a choice for her: kinda tough bein' pilot without a ship ya see. Still, she goes with 'em on a run, nobody sees her for a while, it's not like we care or anythin', what she does is her business. But, she comes back, walks right out of the ship and away. Doesn't look back and when the ship takes off again, she's not on it."

I raise my eyebrows at that.

"I'm surprised they let her get away with it that easy."

"It wasn't _that_ easy tho. One of 'em Gamorreans, he runs out of the ship and after her, guess he was supposed ta bring her back. Turns around and socks 'im right in his ugly face she does. He doesn't go down, Gamorreans are tough sons of sows, so she kicks him hard enough in the dick, people still swear his feet left the ground. Never heard a Gamorrean squeal _that_ high before, they say. Guess the ship was in a hurry, 'cause another buddy of his just walked out and dragged him back, muttered somehtin' about 'ain't got time for this crap' or something. Ship took off not long after, ain't seen 'em since. But we all know it's just a matter of time now. Whatever kinda mess that crew is involved in, it's supposed to be somethin' top secret I reckon, can't have someone who knows too much walkin' around like that. Wouldn't even have to come back themselves. Like I said, this is Zoronhed: got plenty o' blasters here already. Most are for hire too."

Troomba trails off, looking from the woman marked to death to my small form, before giving a small shake of his head.

"Whatever. Ol' Troomba warned ya. Ya wanna get involved with the dead, ya wanna chase after secretive scumbags, I ain't gonna stop ya. Far as I'm concerned, we ain't ever even met. How 'bout you?" the Rodian asks, his eyes taking on a more dangerous sheen as he slowly but clearly moves his hand to grasp something underneath the counter (and old A280 blaster rifle, his mind tells me).

Keeping my expression neutral, I simply give him a small nod.

"I'm fairly certain I have never even set foot in this fine establishment." I easily respond, getting a grim grin from Troomba, who backs down and saunters over to his earlier spot leaning against the wall, taking out his datapad and going back over his earnings again.

Finishing off the last of our water, I gently nudge Anakin in the side, jerking my head in the direction of the Cathar's booth. With a quick nod he follows my lead, and with a few quick strides we've closed the distance between the counter and the last table.

"Mind if we sit here?" I ask in a cheerful voice, only to see her cat-like eyes narrow dangerously, her lips peeling back just slightly, but enough for her pointed canines to peek through.

"Yes." she bites out, but I've already taken a seat, Anakin more hesitantly following my lead.

"Ah, but you've not yet heard my proposal."

"Not interested."

"How can you not be interested in something that you haven't even heard yet?" I respond cheekily at the young woman, who just crosses her arms in front of a sizable bust, noticeable even underneath the impressively thick armour she's wearing.

What is it with the Star Wars universe and the unusually high amount of fit, attractive women?

"Intuition." she responds coolly after a few moments, narrowed eyes not leaving mine.

"Funny thing that. You see, intuition is telling _me_ that you can help me out in dealing with a certain nefarious mercenary crew, one who is up to all manners of unspeakable things way out into the Unknown Regions." I counter, smile still firmly on my face.

The woman's eyes immediately flit over towards the oblivious Troomba, her scowl deepening on her (admittedly) pretty face.

"Didn't know Troomba went by Intuition these days." she responds in a low growl.

"Well, intuition _and_ Ol' Troomba then." I concede, raising my hands in a placating gesture.

The Cathar merely grunts, before raising her glass to her lips, only to scowl yet again as she notices that it is empty. With a sigh, she places it back onto the grimy table, fixing me with a heavy stare as if blaming me for her lack of alcohol containing beverages. Briefly her eyes flit over towards Anakin, who quickly drops his own gaze, before she scoffs and turns back towards me.

"What could an old man and a mere child possibly want from a dead woman?"

"To take down those who would see you dead in the first place."

"It cannot be done." Is her immediate answer, somewhat to my surprise.

"From what I was told about your… departure from their employ, I would've figured that you'd be eager to get back at them." I confessed, and a troubled look crossed her feline face.

"Beating down mercs into the dirt? Sure, I can do that. But these aren't _just _mooks, they've got-" she begins, but cuts herself off.

For a moment, a heavy silence settles over our table, before I attempt to push through it.

"I know that they are involved in things that are scary, and many would deem unnatural. It may even make them seem invincible. But I assure you: they. are. _not_. I have fought them my entire life, I should know. They _can_ be defeated. _I_ can defeat them. But I will need _your_ help." I stress, my voice low and serious, and for the first time during our conversation, the scowl leaves the pilot's face, instead being replaced by a sceptical thoughtful gaze.

"Let's say I believe you. Let's assume here that I believe that you can hurt those… the _things_ that I have seen. That you know what awaits you at the end of the road."

With that, she leans both her elbows on the table, leaning forwards and pinning me with a heavy stare.

"If _all_ that's true… what would you even need _me_ for?"

"I need a pilot. Someone to navigate the Unknown Regions for me. _You_ can help me with that. You are the _only_ one on this planet that can help me with that. Yes, the mercs had a map of where they needed to go, but even so, the Unknown Regions are a dangerous place: for you to have made a successful roundtrip can only mean that you are an ace pilot. And an ace pilot of the calibre that I suspect you are, well, they would probably be able to repeat the last route that they flew, map or no map. Am I wrong?" I challenge, raising an eyebrow at the woman.

Tilting her head, the Cathar leans backwards into her seat, shadow once again sliding smoothly across her face until only her eyes are visible, firmly locked onto my own.

It takes a few long moments for her to answer, during which I release any tension I feel into the all-encompassing Force itself, feeling cool resolve flow into and through me. Off to my right, I can feel Anakin attempt something similar, though he has some difficulty in opening himself up to the Force and allowing it to flow into him. Instead it's like watching a great geyser trying to push back against an ocean.

Something to be corrected, yes, but in time. We have other matters to attend to right now.

Said matter finally drops her gaze, speaking up in a soft tone of voice.

"I _can_ fly you to their base. And _maybe_ you can stop what they're doing there. But that's too large a maybe for me to actually get you there. Honestly, I don't _ever _want to fly that way again in my entire life, for what few days longer it may last."

"So, that's your plan? To just, what? Wait here, hanging around for a blaster bolt to the back of the head? How can that possibly be what you want? You might as well have just told those mercs to kill you right then and there?" I press, a flash of anger replacing the earlier despondency in her yellow eyes.

"I'm not just lying down waiting for them to finish me off." she growls back, suddenly leaning forwards until our faces are only inches apart, a low growling coming from her throat when I don't even flinch.

"I wasn't going to work for them anymore, even if I knew that it meant my life was forfeit. But if they want to claim it, they are going to _bleed_ for it. They know where I am. I know they are coming. Let the battle begin, I say." she says in a challenging tone.

"An unusual stance to take for a pilot." I muse, continuing when she raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"I would have thought a pilot would've preferred to fight their enemies in a dogfight, in the cold freedom of space, rather than make their last stand on the ground." I point out, feeling how the observation makes the woman uncomfortable, a sense of… shame, lancing through her.

"Ain't just a pilot." she shoots back, and my eyes track over the heavy durasteel plating of her armour, something that wouldn't seem out of place on even the toughest of bounty hunters.

"I suspected as much. Much of what you're wearing seems to have been customized. It has a certain… design philosophy to it that I cannot help but find… _familiar._ Combined with your apparent prowess in combat… just who are you, exactly?"

The silence that follows that question is the longest one so far, the Cathar's eyes going distance as she remembers a long-lasting pain.

"I… am Maya… of Clan Asher. I am… I _was_… Mandalorian."

I lean back in surprise, whereas Anakin leans forwards in excitement instead. Due to the strict legislature of the Republic forbidding most of the practices that had been so lucrative for them, Mandalorians are rarely seen there and exist mostly in scary stories to frighten children, their actions during the Neo Crusades and during the Galactic War still not entirely forgotten by the Republic. Still, those had been thousands of years ago, and despite their boogeymen status, their reputation as some of the Galaxy's most fearsome warriors still made them seem very cool to the innocent youths of this day and age.

Unlike Anakin, however, I was able to pick up on the (rather large) subtext of having a Cathar in front of me who was part of a long-standing Mandalorian Clan. After all, history had always been a favourite subject of mine, even in my previous life, while Anakin often couldn't really be bothered with it.

As such, of the two of us, I was the only one who was aware of the tragedy of the War for Cathar… and the hauntingly high price the Mandalorians extracted from the Cathar people.

"That… is unusual."

A bitter scoff is my answer.

"Tell me about it."

She falls silent again, before taking a deep, shuddering breath, her tone halting as she begins to speak. The reason for why she decided to do so is rather depressing, all things considered: she's utterly convinced that she won't live to see the end of the week and feels like at least _someone_ should be aware of her life story.

Unsurprising to be honest, considering both the Cathar and Mandalorian insistence on remembering those who had come before them.

"I'm what's known as a Foundling. Mandos took me in. Trained me in their ways, taught me their language, their culture. They were… family. At least, for a time. Until I found out the history between our people. Between Cathar and Mando. I… couldn't live with that. Live with the people who had done such horrible things to my ancestors. So, I left. Tried to find my _true_ people."

Maya lets out a bitter chuckle at that.

"Turns out, _my_ people didn't take too kindly to one of their own showing up on their doorstep wearing the Mark of Asher on her armour. Didn't get chased with sticks and stones at least, but it was a near thing." she shrugs, before turning her head, looking out through the narrow, dirtied windows to the streets outside with a faraway look on her face.

"So, I began running again. Took jobs where I could find 'em, mostly for piloting all kinds of tugs. You'd be surprised at the things Mando training turns out to be useful for, other than just hunting prey."

"I can imagine." I reply dryly, lightly tracing the familiar thin scar that traverses the length of my craggy forehead.

"Sure, gramps. Anyways, that led me here, and a lack of credits led me to those assholes. Flew them to their secret hide-out, took a quick look around, saw the… the _things_ that they were up to there and decided then and there I was done with them. Couldn't really make a run for it there, where would I even go? They were the ones with a map of an unmapped region. So, flew the lot back here and ditched 'em as soon as we touched solid ground and I cut the engines. At least I got paid part up front, so now I've just been trying to enjoy my final days, waiting for whatever clean-up crew they send their way so I can smash in those bozos' faces and at least meet whatever ancestors are waiting for me on the other side with my head held high." she says with a tone of finality, before looking back towards me.

After a few moments, I speak up again.

"If you want to strike at them. If you _truly _wish to go to the afterlife with a sense of honour… then help me _stop_ them. What they are doing isn't right, you _know_ that, or you wouldn't have walked out on them. You saw what they were doing to others, without anyone to challenge them, everyone, including _you_, thinking that they cannot be beaten. Are you going to give them the satisfaction of taking you out as well? Are you gonna prove them _right_? Or, will you help _me_? Make them pay for what they already have done and make _sure_ that they will _never_ do something like that ever again?" I once again press, doubt beginning to cross Maya's face and mind.

Slowly, her eyes track from my passionate gaze down to the row of empty glasses in front of her, her crossed arms tightening as I can feel her take in her surroundings. Take in herself. Feel how she feels so very _disappointed_ with both.

"Not everyone gets to be a hero, gramps. Some of us just… wander from place to place, always switching between being pushed around and fighting back, and then we're done. We don't go looking for evil to vanquish, we just try to live our lives as best we can, until it becomes clear that there's no way out anymore and you gotta accept the consequences of your choices. All that we can really do then is decide on _how_ we go out, and I have decided on a way that _finally_ makes sense. A way that is both Cathar _and_ Mando. So, just… take your kid and go far, _far_ away from here and forget that the horrors that go bump in the night even exist. Try to live a happy life and leave me to die in the way _I_ want." she replies sombrely, refusing to meet my eyes again.

I'm grasping at straws, not sure what else I can say to the depressed woman, when it's Anakin who suddenly speaks up. His voice is soft and slightly wavering, but the conviction in his words is clear to hear and strong as steel.

"_Please_. Our friend is being kept by those people. We don't know if she's still okay. But we are gonna go there and get her away from those bad guys. We _can't_ let her stay there and let those people do all those _horrible_ things to her. To her, and to everyone they've got locked up there. We're gonna free them all and kick those bad guys' butt, I _know_ it, but it's like Master Yondu said: first, we gotta _get_ there. You're the only one we know that can take us there so _please_ help us. _Please_ help us save our friend."

Anakin can be extremely convincing when he wants to be. I'm still not sure if it's because of those large, earnest baby-blue eyes of his, or his sheer presence in the Force dwarfing just about every other sentient we've encountered (the odd exceptions, like yours truly, notwithstanding). And once again, the target of his pleas has a hard time looking away from that chubby little face.

The seeds of doubt that I had already planted, the desire to do _something_ to get back at her former crew that I had fanned, now found themselves unobstructed as Maya found it _incredibly_ hard to say no to the little Human staring at her with the widest eyes she'd ever seen.

That's not to say that she didn't try-

"Look, kid… uhm, I appreciate you trying to help, but-"

\- however, it was clear the Force had deemed the emotional bonding time over, wanting to kick things into gear and get going with the story already, as was made evident by the door of the Cantina being thrown clear off his hinges, just barely missing a few of the patrons.

A group of sapients that almost seemed to have been bred over the course of generations with the sole purpose of personifying the concept of 'ruffian' with absolute perfection stormed into the suddenly silent Cantina, wildly waving blasters around.

"Everyone stay calm!" the leader shouted, identified by being the largest, ugliest member of the whole lot, gleaming little eyes flitting over the startled people in front of him.

Mentally I briefly mused about the stupidity of yelling that into a crowded room right on the heels of smashing down a door (it just feels somewhat counterproductive), before I nudged Anakin with my elbow.

"That's our queue." I whisper, before fixing Maya with a stern look.

The Mandalorian-turned-pilot tears her gaze from the sudden intruders to me with the greatest difficulty, her eyes wide and her teeth bared, claws on both her hands already extended and gleaming in the low light overhead.

"It's your choice: stand and fight here, and die to a couple of idiots who don't even know what their employers are _actually_ up to and likely wouldn't even care even if they did. Or, come with us and actually make a difference. _Actually_ hit the people who think they can leave a member of Clan Asher to die in a ditch on a backwater planet like this without any repercussions. Come with us if you don't want to let them get away with everything they want." I once again press, and Maya's eyes slowly move from the group of ruffians that are now moving from table to table, harassing the patrons and holding up holodisks with the Cathar woman's face on them, to me gazing intently at her and finally, towards Anakin, who gives her a hopeful look.

It's only then that she finally caves.

"Fine. _Fine_. I must be drunker than I thought, but sure. I'll fly you towards that hell hole, on one condition. _When_ we all die horribly to Jokh and his cronies, _you_ need to take the blame for my death against… _whichever_ set of ancestors decides to greet me on the other side."

"Deal." I say immediately and with far more seriousness than she expected.

Then again, I have a somewhat… _unusual_ relationship with the concept of the afterlife, even amongst Jedi.

"We move. Follow me." I say quickly, receiving nods from both of my companions.

Moving out of the booth, I quickly walk along the far wall, relying on my small stature, large cloak and the low lighting of the Cantina to remain unnoticed. Anakin follows without much issue for the same reasons, but Maya is far larger and her armour far more noticeable.

Thankfully, the ruffians' brash methods actually work against them here. As Troomba had said, there were plenty of blasters to be found in Zoronhed and the people weren't afraid to use them. Already annoyed at having their quiet drinking sessions disturbed and being harassed on top of that, it didn't take much effort with the Force to quickly fan tensions to immense new heights.

All it really took was for me to Force-slap a particularly large Weequay over the back of the head right as one of the hired killers passed behind him. The Weequay in question, with biceps larger than Anakin's head, immediately sprung up with a spinning backfist that hit the Human hunter square in the noggin, lifting the shabby man straight off his feet and sending him sailing through the Cantina.

For a brief moment, all movement and sound paused, as the hired killers looked from their compatriot to the fuming Weequay in surprise as their underdeveloped minds tried to process the sequence of events that led to one of their buddies being half-buried in one of the walls.

Once they did, however, all hell broke loose.

In the chaos of the impromptu bar brawl, hardly anyone even noticed three figures stealthily ducking behind the bar and making a dash for the back entrance. _Hardly_ anyone, as the leader of the group, relatively unoccupied compared to the others due to taking down the three patrons that had gone up against him in quick succession (courtesy of brutal knees and elbows applied to unfortunate noses with great force and precision) caught us right before the door fell shut behind our retreating forms.

As we dashed through the back alley, ducking around garbage containers and trying our best to keep our minds off just what exactly we were running (or sometimes sloshing) through, we could hear a great roar come from within the Cantina.

"The bitch went that way! AFTER HER!"

Sadly, it would seem that the group of ruffians had possessed just slightly more low cunning than I had been willing to give them credit for, as we emerged onto one of the main roads, only to see several other lowlifes storm out of various buildings with blasters in hand.

Clearly, the group that had entered the bar had only been a smaller part of a far larger gang. Stupid of me, I should've kept their backers in mind instead of focusing on the low-level crooks that had entered the Cantina itself. Yes, _they_ had been rather unimpressive, all things considered, but their employers were anything but. They'd have to be, to stand so close to the Sith himself that they were entrusted with the location of the secret lair and the experiments that were being performed there. Troomba had even emphasized the unusual wealth the company had access to, of course they had the funds to just throw stupid amounts of money at Zoronhed and watch as the desperate and the unfettered crawled out of the woodwork by the dozens to deliver them Maya's head.

Speaking of, the Cathar took one look at the half dozen mercs that were quickly running towards us, let out a challenging laugh and took a low stance, teeth bared and claws spread wide, clearly intent on facing them head on.

That was unfortunately rather likely to end with at least one of us (if not _all_ of us) on the ground riddled with blaster bolts, so sadly for her I had to veto her battle hungry death wish (again).

"This way!" I yell out, dashing towards a nearby row of stalls, tearing them down and out of the way with a brute application of the Force, people screaming out in fear and surprise at the sudden violence, the crowded streets already forming a stampede.

Anakin, used to this by now, is of course already on my heels, but Maya only follows after a few considering glances between our pursuers and me, the desire for battle and a glorious death warring with her promise to us and the realization that lying bleeding out on the ground in the dusty streets of Zeronhed can hardly be called 'glorious'.

As she darts towards us, our pursuers are hot on our heels, but the moment that Maya has caught up, I lift the ruined remains of the stalls I tore down back up into a make-shift barrier, sudden enough that I hear at least two dull impacts and muttered exclamations of pain.

Better look where you're running next time boys.

"Now what?" Maya bites out with heavy breaths, adrenaline running rampant through her veins, honed battle instincts putting her on edge.

"Follow me!"

And with that, we're off again, making a seemingly senseless zigzagging pattern, moving from back alley to back alley, and occasionally even busting down doors of our own, rushing through businesses and homes leaving startled angry shouts in our wake. Zeronhed, being the criminal haven that it is, means that its citizens are made of sterner (and more violent) stuff than usual, and many of the ruffians that burst into homes right on our heels more often than not find themselves staring down the barrel of a blaster, held by a _very_ irate homeowner trying to enjoy their free afternoon.

It's like I said: always have an exit strategy ready.

Due to our nonlinear approach (and even backtracking a couple of times) it takes us almost twenty minutes to reach the space port the _Unfettered Destiny_ is docked at, even at the breakneck speeds we're running at.

Bursting into the main arrival's hall, I see the man from before look up from his desk in bleary-eyed surprise. Recognition dawns in his eyes when he spots me, and he opens his mouth as his face settles into a scowl.

"You again? Look, we shook on the price, I ain't-"

"Open the doors! NOW!"

I push out my Force presence as I shout and the man nearly soils himself as I effortlessly dominate his entire being. With his very soul still trembling from being yelled at through a megaphone from less than a meter away, he's quick to respond to my command.

There's an alarm, a quick flash of light and the heavy blast doors to the hangar housing the _Unfettered Destiny_ begin to slide away. As they do, and as I can't help but worry about how slow going the whole process is, I look back towards the still terrified harbor master.

"You'll go home to your family and forget that you ever even saw me." I intone sharply, watching as the man's eyes turn slightly glassy.

"I will go home to my family and forget that I ever even saw you." he parrots, before simply standing up, turning on his heel and walking out of the Hangar.

Feeling Maya's knowing gaze burning a hole in the back of my head, I grunt in annoyance.

"Questions can be asked later, preferably when we are _not_ being chased, or shot at, or a combination of the two."

Maya lets out a thoughtful hum at that.

"Interesting. Why do I get this sense that those moments are actually gonna be far rarer than can be considered normal?"

"Oh, wow! She already knows us pretty well, huh Master?"

Before I can defend myself from the cheeky grins both my compatriots are sending me, the blast shields have moved far enough to let us through, and without a further word, we dash through and move to board our ship.

"Wait! You want me to fly _that_ ancient piece of crap into the Unknown Regions?!"

Well. _Almost _without a further word.

Despite her protests, Maya immediately runs towards the cockpit, jumping into the pilot seat and beginning the frantic flipping of switches and levers that seems to be paramount to every speedy spaceship getaway.

I half-expected her to randomly shout out "never tell me the odds!" at this point.

Anakin is of course right beside her in the co-pilot seat, flipping switches of his own and shouting back some of that incomprehensible Star Wars pilot-speak that I never had managed to quite get the hang of. Feeling the _Destiny _shudder underneath my feet, the walls of the hangar rapidly beginning to fall away as we being our ascent, I realize that I'm hardly needed in the cockpit and instead move back towards the end where the common room met the machine shop area, with the two boarding ramps leading to both sides of the ship.

I quickly dashed down the left one, which was aimed towards the entrance of our hangar, and just in time as well, as a group of about half a dozen ruffians and miscreants stormed inside, hollering as they ran and waving their blasters about in a way that was just asking for one of them to accidentally shoot a fellow crook right in the ass.

Seeing our ship already clear off the ground and moving towards the sky, they let out roars of rage and took aim with their blasters. Now, I very much doubt that their little hand cannons are actually capable of piercing the starship-grade durasteel plating of our ship, especially since she's one of the notoriously durable _Berloz_-class freighters.

Still, in this universe you couldn't be too sure of a lucky shot mucking everything up and million to one chances tend to happen nine times out of ten.

Besides, my brother had been kind enough to fix this ship up and I didn't want these lowlifes to scratch up her new paint job (which had probably been applied by some unfortunate padawans in need of some chores- I mean, _discipline_).

So, reaching out through the Force, one of the thick fuelling hoses littering the hangar floor (which was thicker than my torso) quickly rose up from the ground like some rubbery cousin of the snake, before it whipped around in a vicious half-circle. The synthetic weave of its rubberlike body wasn't really going to do any significant damage, even if being smacked in the face with its sheer weight still meant that it would be a highly uncomfortable experience.

However, the durasteel seal on the open end?

Now _that_ hurt plenty, as attested to by the wailing and swearing assailants after they got brutally smacked against the far wall, cradling broken appendages and bemoaning smashed blasters.

Giving a last cheeky wave, I turned around as the rampart closed up behind me. Swiftly, I made my way forwards towards the cockpit.

"How are we doing?"

"We're doing fine!" Maya yelled back.

Of course, the moment she finished speaking a heavy shudder ran through the ship as it lurched to the side, throwing me to the ground as various alarms sounded and an emergency light went up, bathing the hall in a red glow.

"Correction, we're _not_ fine!"

"Thanks for the heads up." I grouse, before working myself to my feet again and entering the cockpit.

Before I can ask what in the Force is wrong, my unvoiced question is answered as I see another ship make a low strafing run across our nose, its turbolasers firing wildly. Most of them miss by miles, the classic _Berloz_ narrow front-profile working to our advantage, but two still impact us.

One is only a glancing shot scoring across our belly and the _Unfettered Destiny_'s thick plating means we barely even notice that one. The second however squarely impacts the raised bridge sticking out behind the cockpit. Nothing vital is really damaged, as far as I can tell at least, though we now do sport a smoking dent in our ship.

Nothing to be overly concerned about: Star Wars ships are made to be sturdy beyond the reasonable.

… I hope.

As the enemy ship shrieks past, Maya begins issuing orders.

"Short stuff! Gramps! Man those side cannons! They manoeuvre better than we can, so I need you to keep 'em off our sides or tail or we're sitting ducks! Drive 'em away, or drive 'em to the front of the ship, I don't care which! Step to it!"

"Yes ma'am!" Anakin shouts, already leaping towards the gunnery station to his left, so without protest I take the right one, looking over the feed as I try to locate the enemy.

I quickly realize that the multiple screens showing various oscillating lines and glowing buttons tell me precisely _nothing_. Instead, I let out a deep breath, place my hands on the gun control and close my eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Gramps!? This ain't the time for a nap!"

"Calm yourself, Maya of Clan Asher. Have some faith in an old Jedi Master, eh?" I say with a small smile, peeking through my eyes as I shoot her an amused glance.

The Cathar lets out a low growl, before shaking her head and turning slit eyes back on the horizon in front of her.

"I _knew_ you seemed way too comfortable with meeting my ancestors. _Shit_, I knew I was gonna meet them today: didn't realize you wanted to see them today as well." she grumbles, causing me to chuckle.

"Well then, let's hope they aren't too busy."

"They're _dead_. What could they be busy with?" Maya points out incredulously, her eyebrows simply raising even further as I merely laugh instead of answering her.

The moment is broken by an excited whoop from Anakin as the sound of heavy turbolasers rings out throughout the ship.

"Yeah! I got him! Right in the side, he's not trying that again!"

Focusing in the battle once more, I again close my eyes, spreading my awareness beyond my metal surroundings. As high up in the sky as we are, there's hardly any other consciousness surrounding us and so it's easy to pick up on the deluge of emotions a few kilometres away, mostly a mix between fear and anger.

I frown as I feel them make a sharp turn, accelerating towards us at breakneck speeds, crashing through the sound barrier with ease. They are using the highest clouds as a cover however, trying to come at us from above and behind us, thus negating our firepower.

Hmm.

"Maya?"

"Oh come _on_, Gramps, just man the goddamn station already and _shoot_ something!"

"All in good time, my dear. But first, I need to know something: how good are you at performing a backflip?"

"... huh?"

It's the matter of mere moments to explain what our enemies are up to and what I want our response to be, Maya's eyes widening in surprise before narrowing in thought and I understand her apprehension. One of the few noted drawbacks of the _Berloz _class had always been its lack of mobility and what I was asking her to perform was moving wholly outside of the realm of mere mobility and straight into the wonderful world of acrobatics instead.

Still, it was _also_ a matter of mere moments for our enemies to close the intermediate kilometres, so it wasn't as if she really had the time to properly weigh the pros and cons against each other.

Finding her resolve (and blinking the dreariness of over half a dozen beers from her eyes) Maya gave me a firm nod.

"Hold onto your butts and whatever else you do: _don't puke._"

"Huh? Why would we wanna puke-"

Before Anakin can finish his question, the sound of our enemy approaching screeches out across the sky, which is almost immediately followed by the sound of turbolasers firing again. Now, the enemy pilot clearly wasn't a rank amateur: from the angle that he was coming at us, this strafing run was likely to rain down over the entire length of our topside, likely taking out both our main gun and communications and, if he was lucky, do some significant damage to our cockpit, perhaps even kill us outright.

_If_ we had kept flying parallel to him, just in front and underneath his nose and main gunnery, that is.

What he clearly wasn't expecting however was for the _Destiny _to suddenly pull up as hard as possible, its rigid structure groaning at the sudden maneuver. Still, he could maintain his favourable position by simply banking upwards just like we were, and he prepared to do just that.

Unfortunately for him however, that was when the _Destiny _also began a corkscrew, which incidentally brought her right (port? I think? Or was it starboard?) side facing straight towards his cockpit. With my eyes closed, looking outwards solely through the Force, I was unhindered by any sudden vertigo or motion sickness and precisely when the barrels of my cannon lined up with the enemy ship, I pressed the firing stick.

Turbolasers screamed through the air between us, peppering the front of the enemy ship with small explosions and smoking craters and out of pure instinct he dove downwards in order to escape the deluge of superheated plasma crashing against his spacecraft. I could feel his surprise as he lost sight of the _Unfettered Destiny_. However, one of the requirements for being a decent pilot is an instinctive feeling of how objects move through a 3D-space and I could feel his terror spike when his mind noted where the _Destiny_ should've ended up after completing its sudden backflip.

Right behind him.

Straightening out of our roll, a vicious grin crossed Maya's face as we now looked straight at the burning engines of the ship that had just tried to shoot us out of the sky.

"Eat this, assholes."

And with that, she let loose with the main cannon mounted on the back end of our ship. Blasterbolts slam forwards overhead, reducing the entire engine compartment of the opposing ship to a smoking wreck, before something critical is damaged in the onslaught of blaster fire and the ship explodes in a brilliant ball of superheated gas and glowing shrapnel.

Pulling up again in order to clear the blast zone, Maya aims the nose of the _Unfettered Destiny _towards the stars, madly accelerating as she reaches towards an enormous lever at her side.

"I love this part." she says with a grin, before _slamming_ the lever forwards, and the outside world briefly seems to pause and lurch, like toffee being slurped through a straw, before it falls away into gleaming streaks of brilliant blue and white.

We made it to hyperspace.

Both Maya and I let out deep sighs as we finally relax in our seats, breathing easier now that the immediate threat has passed. Our small moment of peace is broken however by the small trembling voice of Anakin, who sounds absolutely miserable.

"Miss Maya? I threw up."

For a moment, our cockpit is silent save for the steady humming of the ship's systems and the vague buzz of hyperspace pressing in all around us, before the Mandalorian Cathar lets out an explosive sigh.

"For fuck's sake."

* * *

**Fun Fact:** "I have a bad feeling about this" has become a running gag for the Star Wars franchise and is uttered at least once in the nine canon movies, and across multiple variations of other media, such as shows and comics.

**AN: **Two things I wanna get off my chest about this chapter. One: writing spacebattles is _hard_! I just couldn't figure out what was going on to the point that I got up out of my chair, grabbed two pencils and just tried to mime the entire battle, trying to figure out how it would go and how to make it awesome! Pretty sure that my neighbours think I'm crazy now. And two: meet Maya of Clan Asher! I based her heavily off Gina Carano's character in the Mandalorian, 'cause let's face it, she's just about the only strong female character that Disney has gotten right these past few years. I really hope you guys like her as I intend for Maya to be the first of the crew that Yondu and Anakin assemble as they go on adventures during the period between the_ Phantom Menace_ and _Attack of the Clones_. There's two more guys that they'll pick up in this arc, and then a non-combatant guy and another woman after that. So yeah, really hope you liked Maya and please let me know if there's something that you _didn't_ like about her so I can see if I can fix that. I just really liked the idea of a Cathar Mandalorian considering their history, even if it's almost three thousand years in the past.


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